dianneece asked:

Hey, Stupid, stop book-raping me. I'll read those books when the time comes. You can't force those types of things, freaka nature.

I can force them on you. I’ll stand by your bed at night and whisper the words into your ear so that the story will always be embedded into your mind subconsciously. I’ll make you love them.

I’m bad at feelings. I’m good at telling you my favorite color, foods, books, and things of the like. But I’ll stumble my way through an explanation of the night I spent on a roof in Mexico after finding out my best friend’s older sister had passed away. I cannot describe the cold, frigid air, the overcast sky, the muted sounds of life happening a couple of blocks away, the feel of the rusted metal staircase I stood on and clung onto as I sobbed, condemning God for betraying our trust in keeping her alive, or how I held onto the railing as the rain began to pour over me and pound into me, melding my hands to the metal until I had to rip them away and wail at the burns on my skin. I can’t do that at all. Unless I have a pen in my hand or a keyboard under my fingers, I can’t do that at all.
—  Dianne E.C.E.