If I were about to be asked who my first love is, It wouldnt come as a surprise that it's you, my prized possession.
My love for you was started out simple,
when I first experienced the pure pleasure of reading story books,
when I couldnt take my eyes off piles of comic books,
when I first mesmerized by my elementary school's library.
I adored you, countless times, in many forms.
Back then, I was never taught how to appreciate things,
and being a careless child that I was, I dishonored you - mistreated you - by mindlessly piling you up on my messy table.
No wonder she forbid me to own you.
But I had the strong urge to read, thus the implacable me shamelessly read at bookstore for hours.
Years passed, things changed, I've learned to keep you safe and sound.
Still, she resents the idea of me reading.
'Get a life'
But I do, I've got to live a thousand lifes from books.
But I do, I've felt livelier reliving stories.
But I do, I've felt more content reading stack of letters.
Is it so wrong to love you and throw my money for you?
I just wish she had experienced your sacred touch,
that she would understand that 'life' itself has many different form.
Xoxo,
A girl who is tired of being chastised for being too fond of books.
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