Have I ever told you how much I love used book stores? I bought two works today; a history of the Siberian Husky, and an old hymnal for my mother.
How many lives have you lived before this? Did you sit on a dusty shelf, or rather a worn pew. How many hands have touched you? How many lives have you touched? Were you held, or did you hold? Perhaps both.
What led you here? Were you loved? Cherished by a grandmother, whom the earth has reclaimed. Or were you cast aside, clutter to be dealt with. Perhaps both.
You are with me know. Loved and safe in my home. My mother will love you, as I do. I hope your time with us is good. I hope you enjoy it. And one day, I hope you are returned to another used book store. I hope your journey continues. Keep touching lives.
$6 is nothing, but you are everything.
Sweet child, I am the devil’s lover, manipulation and I are sisters, guilt and I are family. And I, I darling, I am made of pure hell fire. I will be fine.
Keep all your writing. Keep that bad fanfic you wrote when you were 12. Keep that essay you wrote junior year of high school. Keep those poems you wrote for her. Keep it all. Keep it all.
And why do I remember it? It wasn't remarkable. It wasn't special. It was just a moment, maybe eight, nine seconds. And yet it remains. Why is this what I remember? I forget everything. My memory is hazy and foggy. I can't think straight. It's so hard for me. I try so hard to remember things I need. Things I want. Things I love. Why can't I forget this? Why do I cling to it?
Hey! What's the hardest part of having a boyfriend and a wife?
Oh! Easy. Google calendar.
Not every day is a good day.
But today certainly was.
Lolita is not a love story.
I am violently and relentlessly kind.