stuck in between two books, I picked up the dusty novel off the shelves. The dust on the hardcover clearly showed how long ago I had read it. It was there to serve it's purpose, memories. Never was it called a diary as there were no secrets to be kept. And neither was a story book to put the children to sleep. More to be something that only the aurthor knows what he has written which the world needs more than just clues to figure out the true meaning of it. As the pages were flipped, thoughts so sweet were recalled. Even honey may taste bitter to some. Though how sweet it could be or must have been, there were indeed bad sour memories that lingered through the pages of it. Some to be guidance, others as scars for reminders. Ages it seemed that it took place, but indeed, time isn't the issue here. Reality is the main thing that brings us closer to life. Accepting what is given and denying what we want...
Am at Grandma's house now. Time check. 2.33 am and counting. Am off to bed soon. Was playing game and got hooked onto it. Need sleep urgently. Full day ahead tomorrow...
.: ShE CaMe BaCk :.
