Endings

Being an avid reader, I've stumbled upon several books throughout my life. I couldn't shake off the feeling of longing and nostalgia towards the characters of the book I had just finished especially if it affected me in a way or another. For days I'd find myself behaving like those characters and using their catchphrases in my everyday conversations as some sort of inside joke between me and them. It's fascinating how with each book you put down, you feel as if your gut is expanding, as if you're getting bigger and brighter and more vivid and more everything. The story imprints itself inside you, making you feel as if you were the protagonist, you went through these advenures, you kissed those boys, you got your heart torn apart and you got it sewn back into place. You may select your favorite couple or your book boyfriend or your all-time hero among an assortment of books, but the more you read, the more your options are and you find more of yourself in more characters. And then comes the ending, a happy ending that defies the powers of nature and people and gives the good guy his credit, or a sad ending that shows you how people aren't always enough, how love doesn't save all and how everything is bound to end. Naturally I liked to compare between my life and a certain book in order to pick out the similarites and find some sort of keywords or helping guide through it. Everytime I read a happy-ending book I'd feel empowered to do anything, but then I would be catapulted back to reality by the sad-ending one, and I'd realize that I shouldn't bother trying at the first place. However, my real life and book life have matured beyond description, and they still have plenty of maturing to do left, but they were trying to tell me that I shouldn't let a book determine my own life, the author determines that, and if my life were a book, I'd certainly not want a sad ending for myself, therefore I changed my looking glass, I flipped through the endings that are engraved in my mind, marveling about them, learning from them and bearing no shame towards feeling the characters' grief as my own. I remembered the happy endings too and let them be my saints that direct me to find lost things and people. I lived with the books not through them, and I did the same with people, I didn't let them define me, didn't let their outcomes or misfortunes or happiness deter me from what I want, but I observed, and learned, and that's all that matters.