kayla.

Tucked safely under my arm, hand placed firmly underneath and fingers wrapping the corners, I carry my books as delicately as an infant. I feel protective of it, making sure the bookmark is not in danger of falling, or the book in danger of slipping. My books are my treasures. I become upset if a page corner becomes crumpled, or if the spine begins to crinkle. I’ve always thought it would be interesting to highlight favourite passages, to keep track of the words that most tugged at my heart, but it pains me to upset the perfection of the pages and I can’t bring myself to mark a single line. It’s fine though because if a passage is especially memorable, I will copy it down somewhere; the text will be written on a piece of paper, or in a word document. I wish I could have a library for me to put all of my books in. I’ve come to realize that though I have many books, I feel that I don’t have enough. →