The scar tissue holding my heart together was too weak to face the truths of a book I recently read. The weakened tissue broke apart, leaving a gaping hole.
My heart is back to healing, as I have more than a few people in my sewing circle at the ready. And since this was a repeat fix, the road map was already in place.
I learned something about myself through this experience: I can NEVER stop reading.
Books do more than entertain you or show you the possibilities of what could be: they also show you the reality of what once was in sometimes harsh truths so you can grow past them.
Books also have a way to change over time. As you experience life, meanings behind truths within the books become more evident, sometimes so evident it is a slap to your face or a knife in your heart. Those are the types of books that let you see your true self without the warping effect of a mirror.
I love books, and I think that the reason I am having such trouble writing them is as I write, I read, and my own self truths revealed through the magic of the story seem irrelevant to the world around me.
I need to get over this…. NOW.
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