My Books

My Books (Written September 28, 2013)

These books that I read ’till they fall apart,
These books that I read to death,
These books are a home when I’m all alone
And it seems like nothing’s left.

They’re windows, they’re doorways,
They are comfort when I’m sad,
They’re adventure, and magic, and wonder, and fun,
Where the end always comes when the good beat the bad.

And when they’re done I’m happy but sad,
‘Cause the journey was fun but has come to an end,
But though it is over I can always go back,
To the stories to which I am sent.

They’re my friends, my companions, my awesome escape,
They’re my never ending comfort,
And I’ll love them and read them again, and again.
Until they fall apart.


I love reading so much. C= No matter how awful the day has been, no matter how maddening, a good book can always make everything better. Really. Because it is impossible to stay upset after getting absorbed into a story. Or, it is for me at least. There are some stories that I can really get into. Emily the Strange  by Rob Reger was one of those, where I got so into it that I was having trouble not talking like the story was written after I finished. =P Or books like the Chrestomanci Chronicles by Diana Wynne Jones. Or, well, hundreds of other books, really. I love the feeling I get when I’ve just finished a book and can’t quite get it out of my head. I made a rule for myself that I will only ever read one book a day, no matter when I finish it, so that I can let the book I finished sink in before I start another one. (And so that I don’t run out of books too quickly, but, whatever..=P) And I always try to read an old book (one that I have read before) after every new book that I find. I think C. S. Lewis said something about that. I like doing that, though. Unfortunately, the old book that I am reading right now was one of my early favorites. Ever read Magic Kingdom of Landover by Terry Brooks? I love that series. I’m rereading the first book right now, and I have read it so many times over now that it is, literally, falling apart. Now, realize, I take very good care of my books. I do not tolerate people damaging them. I have just read it so many times that pages have begun to fall out. But I think that gives the book character. C= Cause, after all,

“If you take a book with you on a journey,” Mo had said when he put the first one in her box, “an odd thing happens: The book begins collecting your memories. And forever after you have only to open that book to be back where you first read it. It will all come into your mind with the very first words: the sights you saw in that place, what it smelled like, the ice cream you ate while you were reading it… yes, books are like flypaper—memories cling to the printed page better than anything else.”  – Cornelia Funke (Inkheart)


3 thoughts on “My Books

    1. Yes, I absolutely know what you mean! I cried when I finished The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle because I was so sad that it ended. Same with Chronicles of Narnia. (I cried when I finished the 7th Harry Potter book too, but that was for different reasons. =P) Otherwise I just get restless because I want more so badly.

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