I love the way it makes me feel. The way I get lost in the pages, in the words that seem to create a new world around me, in the feeling that I stop being myself and finally I'm someone else worth living. Because books for me it's a way to feel. Yo actually feel. Deeply, without being afraid, marking my very soul to the point the are part of me in a way, the shaped and changed my existence, bringing me into new families and friends and loved ones. Because no matter the end the feeling of being loved is there.
For me reading a book is a holy experience.
When I first hold the book in my hands I want to just sit there and stare a few seconds felling the way my heart beats faster and I can't stop smiling and the anticipation is eating me alive. Just sit there and smell the pages, the way the ink smell, the contrast of the black letter on the white paper.
The I open it and it's like a whole new world. I'm no longer in my existence, but I'm living a different life, a few of them. I have loved ones and I have enemies and I fight for what I believe it's right or causing destruction in my path because I had enough, I'm both the villain and the hero, I'm the good and the bad, I'm more than I'll ever be as myself. I feel the pain, I feel the joy, I laugh at the jokes and the sarcastic comments, I die of embarrassment, I crie and I smile, and I fall in love I judge everyone around me and I can't stop until I know the end.
And then I'm back. Back at my very existence I hate, but how can you hate something when each part of it belongs to something you love so much? When I finish reading is like a subdrop. It's like the world is crashing down on me. It's like a reminder that none of it was real, but yet for me it was. The pain and the joy it was real. It make me feel.
I love reading. It never disappoints me. It keeps my soul company. In a way a human never did, because they never tried. Reading hurts me and puts me back together. It's heals a hurting soul and protects a loved one.
I really love reading. Even when no one else understands it. I do. It's mine. It's make me want to live, to explore, to love, to be.
“I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore. It's hard to put into words, but I guess it's like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.”
-Haruki Murakami
eu temh
Picture this: It's a rainy day. You're sat in a quaint quiet cafe filled with oddities and knick knacks, and large bay windows that look out onto a cobbled street of a small European city. You watch people run about, doing their errands, darting in and out of shops, with their umbrellas bobbing up and down in their haste. The sweet foamy coffee you're sipping on from a vintage porcelain cup warms your insides. There is an innate sense of calm and tranquility as you sit there watching the world exist, and for a brief moment, time simply stops.
Why is nobody talking about Chole or Sam or Sophia or Marcus? Like why ? That song is so good. Like wishing the other person happiness and at the same time wanting a closer like just tell me that you loved me and it's going to be fine(my mental peace), I don't want to hate you, I just wanted to hear that you loved me once and I know it didn't workout between us but I still want to know what you will be up to in your life later, let me be a part of it (like maybe exes on good terms) even if you and I both have someone in our lives.
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Credits twitter: @ellasxl
being an only child and not close with your parents is hard when you love talking and can’t keep your mouth shut and are constantly making jokes. like i’ve always just kinda talked to myself since i had no one to talk to and now being think i’m weird. i cant be the only one who will have full on conversations out loud with only myself, right?
like 🍉
my skills include reading books, eating snacks, sleeping during the day, scrolling through tumblr quickly enough that people’s stupid videos don’t start playing automatically, listening to music, ignoring reality and being a massive crybaby.
The first occurrence of Einstein’s E=MC^2 equation in his own writing.
— We will always love more that which is forbidden.