forget me. leave me. love me. inspire me.

i held in my hands, the book that started it all. the wild desires and the yearning and also the male insecurities in which faltered me into becoming the person i could have been. the fluorescent light cast a shadow as i unwrapped it from its plastic covering, hoping that its evils may not influence anyone else but me. the wind from the fan at the far east corner of the room tried as much to let fly the cover, pushing me to start reading the book. but it failed miserably. i grasped the paperback as firmly as i could, without damaging the cover or the spine. it should remain flawless as how it was before the unwrapping. the soft red marks on the cover gave the monochromatic stance a glimmer of hope. and yet, red signified danger whilst embracing love. perhaps i tried too hard in establishing the need for answers to everything. i sighed. steeling myself, i looked at the synopsis on the back cover. a tragic love story. more like an irony. why does every love story need to be tragic. no one needs to die, no one needs to get hurt, but most importantly no one has to cry. that's a dystopian thought in a utopian world right there. we cannot have one without the other. although the blind never knew light from the darkness, perhaps only the rules apply to the less fortunate to know that difference. if only life were that simple. i cast the book onto the bedside table, gently reminding myself that today was not the day to read and mourn. maybe tomorrow would be a better day. after all, i wrote it.