A love letter to my one great love; literature.

Dedicated to the one thing that has always been there for me

It has been a while, since I have written a single word. But it welcomes me home, the way a mother might welcome home her child from school, lovingly with great care. The words don't flow as smoothly as they used to, perhaps they are resistant, or maybe it's me. We cling to eachother like lovers who have been seperated for too long, attentive but scared.

 

I want to write, to feel my heart pour through my finger tips but my story is only one of many. My words are not my own. My life is not one that holds great love or that has experienced great loss. I have hurt, I have felt pain, immense pain. I have blundered through darkness with no hope of light. I have laughed until I have cried. I have cried until I could do nothing but sleep. I have felt worthless, useless, nothing. I have felt butterflies and the blood rush to my cheeks. I have felt like I was flying and felt like I was falling. I have felt alive, and I have felt dead.

 

Right now, I feel nothing but love for the words that make up my life, that will shape my future. The "I love you", the "goodbye's", the "I'm sorry's", the "I can't believe we just did that", the "that was the best day of my life" .. maybe one day even the "I do". 

 

Literature will always be there for you, through the times when you have felt so burdened that you were certain you would fall, it was there for you in the words of a loyal friend. On bad days when you felt as if the whole world was against you, it was there in the "do you want my seat?" of a kind stranger. Maybe it was there when you finally realised just how amazing you are, when you told yourself "I believe in me, I can do this". Literature believed in you too, so believe in it. Believe in its power to heal and help you to grow, believe in its loyalty.

 

Above all believe in its magic.