Blog,  literary,  writer

easy come, easy go, a letter

3 min read

I miss you. And I’m not gonna lie, I tried to find you everywhere after you’re gone. To try to win you back. But I guess you’re gone forever now. I thought you might still be hanging out with that friend of mine from high school but— I don’t know. I remember you two were together for some time, weren’t you? And yes, before you ask me, I did try to move on. I even went online to find a similar you. Several times, actually. But I guess you are unique. Aren’t you? A limited-edition. Oh god, where are you?

If there’s any consolation to my unfortunate soul, I still remember the good times we had as if it were yesterday. I remember stealing you from the library, holding you with in my hands, running like a criminal, taking you with me to a safe place so I could enjoy every moment with you alone. I admired your cover like a prize I’d just had won. I flipped your pages and annotated on your margins with no intent whatsoever to return you to that library. Oh, vivid images. Remember when I tore the borrowing card inside the pocket on your back cover? It was a rebel act. But also my way to tell you you were mine then and I didn’t care about any other person who read you before me.

And I never put you down, did I? Once I held you in my hands, I read every word printed on your pages, turning them eagerly, without even blinking. I’m sorry that I left some bread crumbles fall on you, but I cleaned you, didn’t I? I fought against the night, I fought against my eyes almost ready to give up to close and sleep, and I regained the energy by forcing to read more from your ink, to read you to the end. I managed to read you in one sit. And then, what did I do? I lended you to some friend and he (or she?) never returned you to my shelf, like I never returned you to that library.

And I’m telling the truth. I went online, I even found a similar book with a similar cover. It looked so much like you in the photo that I thought for a moment that it could be you, put online to be sold as a cheap thrift shop item by that friend that borrowed you from me, ages ago. How would they dare do it, tho? They wouldn’t. It wasn’t you. It just wasn’t…

All I know now is that YOU are the reason. You are the reason why I never lend books. Why I never let anyone even touch the books on my shelf. But we’re never gonna see each other again, will we? I only hope you’re not filled with dust behind old books on a forgotten shelf at the house of whoever took you forever from me. But if you are. Filled with dust. These words are for you. And now you know I haven’t forgotten you. I miss you. Limited edition book, stolen from a school library. Mine and not mine anymore.

Easy come, easy go… If I ever find you again, I’ll dust you off.

Did you like it? I want to write more stories like that. Tell your friends and family about this blog. I do it with love and passion for reading and writing every day.

Now, question: do you lend books? And what do you with your books after you finish reading them?

2 Comments

  • WithloveMasi

    I loved this story. Pretty similar to something that happened to me when I was in school. I’m an avid reader from a very young age, and I had Spanish literature classes and I had to read any book of my choice to then write a paper about it. I read The perfume by Patrick Süskind and I fell in LOVE. I treasured that book with my soul, literally 😩. One day my despicable cousin came to my house saying she would like to read it I lend the book under the condition she would return it back next week… Well I’m still waiting for my precious The perfume copy. And the worst part is that she lost it 😭😭😭. And that is the reason I don’t lend my books to anyone

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