An open love letter to books

Well, in relation to my post on Enid Blyton, I thought I should further espouse my devotion to these soon-to-be antiquated objects (not too soon actually. Apparently sale of paperbacks have increased).

Why do I love thee, my printed double-sided lover?

Simply because you know me, and knowing me, you still accepted me whole. You know me deeply, all my flaws and failings, yet never judged. The remarkable thing is… you never once spoke to me. Well, not audibly anyway. Yet you reach deep into the core of my being, to draw out secreted emotions I never knew I possessed. Your words transcend pulp, ink and air. Your words give shape to my inner desires, give form to my imagination, and give hope to my dreams. If they say that love makes food taste better, then you make me live my life better. You imbue life with a multitude of hues and brilliance.

I understand your struggles like my own. I feel your pain like mine. I cry when you cry. A small part of me dies when you die. I ache when you ache. When injustice happens in your world, I grit my teeth waiting for justice to be served. When you laugh I laugh, when you fall I laugh, when you mess up I feel your embarrassment, and I still laugh. We are connected, you and I, by our shared love of words and life. We are connected by the emotions you evoke in me.

Your loyalty is indomitable. I age, and so will you. I develop wrinkles, you crease and get dog-eared. I get frail and weak, you turn yellow and brittle. I lose my teeth, you lose your edges. You never will betray me, or lose me. However, I, being the flawed one, might misplace you. I also judge you by your cover sometimes, which is my loss, for I may miss out on an excellent read.

Then again, you are not entirely flawless. You have disappointed me before. You are sometimes bland and lackluster, full of clichés and improbability. Other times you are dense and confusing, full of yourself and grandiosity. Sometimes I cannot reach the end, because it is too trying a journey.  Sometimes, I just want to be away from you, and distract myself with television programmes or mindless games, for at times our relationship does become mundane or overly intense. It is totally normal though, and I know you understand. I know you are not worried, because you know that my love for you will never waver. We are inseparable.

There is a world of difference between us. Yet you embody everybody’s life, mind and soul. You embody the world that I exist in.  You possess the power to change me, to change us, to change my world. That is why I love you.

I believe I could never write a love letter as beautiful and as heartfelt as this to another, for which man or being knows me like you do?

You, and only you, are my perfect lover.