My entire life I’ve fought this very urge, quelling it with passion; zeal; abounding emotions of all sorts. I did my utmost to suppress the silence, so as to eliminate lackluster from my vocabulary. I’ve spent years trying to satisfy everybody’s hunger for excitement, feeling as if this burden were upon my shoulders. But looking back at the time spent filling emptiness with emptiness, I realize that every last moment was in vain - each second was at my own expense. And now, with a heart on overdrive, torrential emotions shooting out of left field, stirring my entire being, a mind on the verge of combustion, exhausted beyond its limits, and a soul scarred from your merciless games, I wish so badly not to feel
10390.) I love stories. I love reading stories, I love writing stories, I love telling stories. I love how you can pick up a book and be transported to Middle Earth, 19th century London, Narnia, Hogwarts or any other time or place in history. I love how all of your worries and cares disappear just by turning a page. I love how characters can become best friends at a time when you have no one else. I love the escape, the chance to be someone else, somewhere else for a little while. It’s refreshing. We all need stories.