In a world that is so unpredictable, it seemed that the best way to cope was to absorb myself in a book. A book could always be depended upon to have an ending no matter how tragic or unbearable the story, a meaning behind why things happened and a sense of hope that no matter how bad things got, they would always be resolved, somehow. Ultimately, books were my salvation – a way to escape reality, forget my own troubles and exist in a world that wasn’t mine. I’m not even sure when I began to read, all I know is that for as long as I can remember I was always absorbed in some kind of book.
I can’t even begin to explain how I was then, and it's even more complicated as to how I am now. All I can do is explain as best as I can what happened, and that sometimes I feel and act in ways that are neither rational nor understandable. My life is a mystery, a puzzle of different parts that really don't fit together or make sense.
I can’t even begin to explain how I was then, and it's even more complicated as to how I am now. All I can do is explain as best as I can what happened, and that sometimes I feel and act in ways that are neither rational nor understandable. My life is a mystery, a puzzle of different parts that really don't fit together or make sense.
© Amy Serafina
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