A Dedication

There are so many things that I cannot explain, but I can provide you with endless comments, anecdotes and insights.

I don’t know why it targeted me or why I allowed it to. In fact, I don’t even know how it all started. One day I decided to sign my life over to Literature.

Though I did it indirectly and unknowingly, I still did it. I have never looked back. Literature has never treated me badly, so I will not allow a bad word. I don’t want to over-complicate things here, I simply want to state.

This is a dedication, in it’s truest form... to Literature.

I’m partial to negativity aimed at my owner. Everyone can identify themselves with a piece of Literature, there is something out there which stands for every individual. You don’t have to want it to stand for you, it just does and with acceptance comes understanding, in that order. Literature is one of few constants in this world, and everyone likes something to rely on. Literature is that glance that speaks to you in a firm way. You don’t have to know what it is to know what it means. With one thing comes another and nothing is alike.

Literature has seen everyone through an experience. To assume your exemption would be to ignore your own being. It doesn’t have to make sense, it creates the rules and you’re simply a follower. A cherished one, I assure you.

This is a dedication.

When I cannot give anymore, and when I feel like my mind’s capacity to mind is overflowed with nothingness, I turn to you. You turn to me! We turn, and never turn away. This insistent binding of you and I on every separate occasion, is simply that... separate. The layers of relationship I form with Literature each time I trace it with my ears, eyes and mind are significant to my character.

I can sit and admire for hours. Literature is my idol. We are Literature’s children, so this is a dedication.

Don’t turn away and shrug as though you don’t recognise; Literature is the lady who gave you your mind.