vicarious existence



if you think the point of having children is to get something out of them later in life then i hope you never become a parent
It's on a fucking Hiatus again. Again. God damn. If it weren't so good I'd give up on it but damn it makes me feel things nothing else had ever and fuck this all to hello and back to earth because atleast hell is fascinating this deserves to rot and wait bored on earth like the rest of us mortals looking to give meaning to our existence by vicariously accumulating experience and empathy and then having our journeys of personal goes arrested for indefinite periods of time because of these bloody hiatuses.

How can I tell you what words mean to me?

How can I describe the influx of feelings,

that a beautifully written paragraph can arise in me?

How can I possibly explain why I feel a personal loss and real grief

when a character I loved so dearly dies -

especially when you do not understand how

I could possibly love someone who lives only on a page.

Perhaps that’s it.

Words for me are living.

If you do not understand the power of language and the written word–

or worse, dismiss it–

you will never understand how someone like me,

can live vicariously though characters who exist only in books.

To you, it’s nothing but ink on paper.

To me, it’s an entire universe… a living, breathing world.

Even if it’s living only when I open the covers of a book.

Is it still living when it’s closed?

Or when you open it?

Perhaps, that’s the other thing.

This difference between us.

In our perception.

To you, words are just words. 

They mean nothing more to you than what they say.

But I will not rest until I climb inside a chapter

and nest between the paragraphs.

Because words are not just words to me,

They are a key to the gateway of another world.

I know you know this feeling.

But for you, something else is key.

Perhaps it’s a remote for television.

Or a joystick for a game–

Make-up, instruments, freshly bought produce, money.

There’s something out there that makes the lives we live a little easier.

Something that makes us happy when we’re blue.

For me it’s books.

For you it’s something else.

Just please don’t judge me.

And I will not judge you.

- bookphile -