Bookmarks

Unable to finish the chapter. Unable to close my book. All I can do is blankly stare at the page before me. I have read it many times through by this point; I know it by heart. I no longer need the book to tell me how the story goes. But I can't set it down in fear of losing my place.

I sit here with this book, reading and re-reading a story I hate. I can hear the life outside calling me, and I want to join it. But I am stuck. Unable to finish the chapter. Unable to close my book.

I know what happens next, but I can't bring myself to read it. Because reading means realizing- Bringing it to life. Making it unavoidable.

Finally, the world outside becomes too much to ignore. I've felt the days passing by as I sat with this book in my lap. I've felt myself wasting away. As always, I rush back into life. But- as always- I also unconsciously reach for the corner of the page. Before I run off, I fold the corner down and mark my place. Unable to finish the chapter. Unable to really close my book.

I come back in, refreshed and revitalized until I look at my book. I can see the unevenness in the pages where the corner is folded. I had thought that going back out into the world would continue my story, but in reality I have just picked up another book.

My stomach sinks as I remember the book. The story has become stale; the outcome remains just as obvious. My thoughts dwell on the book as the days pass by. I still go outside, but I am haunted. I can still see the folded corner, even as the book lies closed. In this state, time will not help because the bookmark is permanent. In a moment of desperation, I decide to unfold the corner. I may be unable to finish the chapter, but now I can close my book.

I will go out and join the rest of the world. I will make connections and grow; I will finally be living again. And as time passes, I will first feel the distance between me and the book deepen. But those feelings will fade as my memories of the book fade, and I will have moved on. I will be reading a new book.

But unfortunately, I also know how this story goes.

Because I know that I will stumble upon the old book one day.

And I know that I will pick it up and open it out of curiosity.

And my heart will drop as I discover that although I may have unfolded the corner, there is still a crease in the page.

And I will be right back where I left off.

The chapter still unfinished. The book still unclosed.