THE BOOK THIEF

I stole a book called 'The Book Thief' by Markus Zusak, oh the irony. Although I had to return it, next time I found it lying on the same surface, calling to me. It bore my name. This time, the book was addressed to me. It didn't feel as satisfying as the first time when putting it in my bag. However, book is now mine.

It's about colours, death, words. It's about me, at least I'd like to think that.

From another book 'The Gordian Knot', I read the closing paragraph only. It's about the Gordian knot and that every knot tied can also be untied. But can everything that is done be undone? I don't think so. When I think of untieing  and undoing the only sober solution is of actual dealing with the problem. Not my or Alexander's the Great way of cutting the knot with the sword, suffering consequences that catch up with you, they always do, dying somewhere in Asia.

(Over)thinking (never leads to anything good or positive) of the knot makes me be OK with feeling blue. Letting me miss him. Also, I know that I cannot allow loneliness (if that is what is troubling me) drive me back to bad company. Yet, this is only fair, as I deleted the knot completely  my tragedy is to now dwell on the emptiness. If I just knew what am I willing to sacrifice!

When I think of him, I ask myself 'Can another person make you happy? Can I make somebody happy?'. And the answer is again, I don't think so. It has to come from within, from the self. Who am I to blame now?!

When I am with my books, I don't go to bed alone, I've got many lives, I've got everything. Today, I need a hug.I mustn't wish for the things but only be patient, wait out the days and grasp new memories for survival.

I'd steal any book and cut all the knots.