Broken Fairy Tales

As a person of limited means and experience, I tried to make up for any gaps in my knowledge vault by reading too much. For more than 20 years now, I have been a very indiscriminate reader. I read anything I can get my hands on. (I stop at personal journals, unless they are my students' required outputs).

 I often get in trouble because of the stuff I read. I have made my readings my escape. I even managed to let a huge part of my life simply pass by because of my preoccupation with reading.I read too much, they say. I have grown fat, and awfully proud because I read too much...

True. Reading materials were my safety net in a crumbling world, and true, my world was crumbling. With books as foundation, what did I expect?

My family has come and gone and I only appreciated what it was like to have a complete family until I lost it. Pretty baffling huh?

Three of my grandparents passed away and I have not had a healthy and meaningful relationship because, even while visiting, I would hide with a book.Escape.

I have been preoccupied with my world, and with my self and with my fairytales that never really came true in real life.

In real life things were like this. I did not like how reality was so I escaped. And now, I have broken bits of fairy tales that will never come true anymore.

Reading was a safe adventure. You cry but you really do not get hurt, you care about the characters but you do not have to sacrifice anything to show you care. When you cannot face problems at work and at home, a book is always a good thing to escape to.

But I do not want to live life thru other peoples eyes anymore. I no longer want to smell roses thru the books, and feel the pain of heart ache thru the cries of the characters. I want to live my broken fairy tales now.

And a life beautifully lived is not focus on the self. I think I learned this one today...I want to live.