I visited one of the nearest bookstores to my dormitory this afternoon. It has been ages since I last went to a bookstore in hope that I'll find something worthwhile to read. I admit that my work as a nurse kept me from reading for a year now. I was mostly exhausted from all the physical strain it brought me and whatever little time I have, I use so I could sleep.
But today, visiting that bookstore had brought me back to where I came from. And I came from between the pages of the books I used to love as a child. I came from all the characters I accompany as they set off in their adventures. I felt ashamed that I forgotten what it feels like to go sit beside my favorite authors while listening to their stories. I took them for granted. I might be reading then, but I am not listening. I have forgotten who I really am. I have forgotten how beautiful and heartbreaking words are.
I understand now why journals are important. One day, I might forget what I felt and realized today. That's human nature, we change. We forget. But not if I write down this very moment. This very feelings I am feeling now. It wouldn't fade or go to waste. That is the beauty of words and stories.
Thank you for reminding me to write. Thank you for teaching me to read.
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