dear lover, please read some books.

dear lover,

i spent lots of time in a library today. both of the libraries i went to had signs that they hosts games of d&d. you can probably guess what that means. i spent lots of time thinking about you today. you and books.

i would hate being compared to a book, personally. mostly because i’m not something that you read and put down halfway through just because you don’t like the plot twist in the middle. besides, depression isn’t a plot twist in my book; it’s the thing me, the hero, tries to overcome in the second half of the book. the second half people never bother to read.

the story at the beginning is great though. at least that’s what i’ve heard. there’s got to be a reason people keep going past the cover, past the first chapter. right? it’s like a fairy tale, a dream come true. the perfect book.

and then it’s not perfect. but the expectation that the book is is already in your mind, so when it stops being less than perfect, it’s no longer worth reading. at least, that’s what i’ve been heard.

part two is still in progress though. every day a new page is written and each page past the initial ‘twist’ is better than the last. i don’t think that’s particularly special though. that’s the case with most people’s stories.

and then i got to thinking again. we, as in us together, are kind of like a book. actually, i feel perfectly fine calling us a book. we are a story that we are cowriting together. the story of us. god, isn’t that cliché?

the book of me and the book of us aren’t actually all that different. both start perfectly. both are the thing of dreams, everything you ever wanted in a story. and of course, both of these stories have less than perfect plot twists in the middle of them.

this is where the books start to differ.

the book of me is still open on a table, blank pages plenty, and more than enough words to fill the space. i have never put this book down. this is a book that i fight to write.

the book of us isn’t still being written. it’s an unfinished project, put on a shelf to collect dust and harbor memories either too dear to forget or too painful to remember so they don’t have to remain thoughts in our heads. the book of us was put down mid sentence, an infinite cliffhanger.

but i feel like it doesn’t have to stay that way. i feel like the authors of this book will come back to it one day, other books they’ve read since they put it down giving them inspiration and ideas on how they can make this book have a great ending. something that’s so perfect, it makes the beginning of the same book look like that less than perfect plot twist that stopped them mid-sentence and ask ‘now what?’

as for me, i know my book will continue to get better. my book is going to be so amazing that when i publish the next chapters, everyone will see red that they tried putting it down. my book will be one that captivates people and leaves them thinking about it for days on end. the one people recommend to their friends.

i hope that the books you read before you come back to the one we’re writing inspire you. i hope they fill you with knowledge on things you wanted to know and things you stumble on by surprise and end up loving. i hope that the book you’re writing yourself keeps getting better. in fact, i think i would almost call it the perfect book. almost.

there’s a perfect book for everyone out there. i’ve read a lot of books, and i have quite the collection of finished novels and epics on my shelf. i think maybe a thousand or so have laid themselves bare for my eyes to pour over their pages. and out of all of those books, ours is my favourite.

let’s finish it someday. sooner than later is preferred, but i’m reading a book right now on how to be patient.

gabe