obviously a becky post

The Proper Way To Leave a Book

Dear Book

Wow. It’s come to this. You know, I tried. I really did. Spent so much time paying attention, touching you, turning your pages. Baby, I choose you above all the others because I thought we could have something special. When I saw your face, I thought “Yes. That is the book for me.”

Those first few pages were great. The thrill of your voice, the novelty of meeting new characters. I was going to tell my friends about you. But you changed. Or maybe I did. My love didn’t disappear overnight, dear. It was a slow death, as your vocabularly shrank and excecution of events became sloppy and cliche. Did you think I wouldn’t notice your over-dependence on archetypes? I did, honey. I knew all along.

Maybe I should have left sooner, before we got this far. Page two hundred and I’m the jerk for leaving. But I have to leave. It’s the only thing that’s right. We’ll be better off, you know? You’ll meet someone else. I’ll even drop you at the library, help kick off the match making proccess. And me? Well, I’ll get by. Maybe I’ll meet a book and stick it out to the last page. That was never an option for us.

I will never forget you.


Have you ever loved a book so much that the story became a tattoo on your soul, or whatever a soul is supposed to be. And with every move you make, you feel and know that story is there for you and it loves you back. And you don’t even have to read it for the book to be in the crevice of your heart where it climbed in without your permission, but you will never remove it because without that story, your heart would stop.

Where to read when you are crazy busy:
  • The bus.
  • The train.
  • While waiting for things to happen.
  • At the kitchen table.
  • In the pool.
  • The grocery store.
  • The edge.
  • Wait there is no edge.
  • The back of a wardrobe.
  • The room of requirement.
  • Panda Express
  • In a bowl of cereal.