But this is how it works:
You finish a chapter and you move on to the next. You close a book and you move on to a new one. And it’s always gonna be a constant cycle of ends and starts and that’s all there is until you find this one story that won’t ever seem to get old. You’ll hold on to it, hold it close to your heart until you memorize all the lines, wear out the bindings and til the pages start to yellow. No matter, it will still be the same thing engraved in your heart. The moment it disintegrates with time, it’s in your blood and you’ll no longer need to relive it from memory because it’s already who you are. And this is the sort of thing only a few people will get. A sort of gift that flourishes over time. It’s like that locket (or any sentimental thing) you keep in a box, tucked away until you need to get irrational emotional support from it. It’s the sort of thing you’ll remember on random moments or that you’ll deliberately bring to life when a relative situation calls for it. But whichever it may be, this can only come from reading thousands (but if you’re lucky, one works just as well) of books and finally finding the one that strikes closest to heart. It comes in knowing that after searching to and fro, you’ve finally found the one.
But even so, you’ll never be satisfied with just one because there’s always gonna be more out there. And that’s okay because you all cherish them. Maybe some more than the others but all life changing just the same.
Only in reading, Only in words, Only in books.