Friday, September 30, 2011

I Found a Book Today

I read a book today. It was quite different from any other book that I had ever seen. The cover was blank, it had no blemishes or fading, it was perfect as though it were brand new. I glanced through it; the front pages were torn and discolored, as though it had been used and read for years; the middle pages were beginning to fade and become weary, as though they had been thumbed through and left alone. The last pages were crisp, clean, and fresh, as though they had never been touched. The book became even stranger when I flipped it over; there was no back cover, only a blank page. As I opened the front cover I found myself even more shocked and confused, the index was distorted and completely illegible and the authors name was no where to be found.
I began to read through the torn and discolored pages. I learned of a boy who had been born, alone and lost, into a matured society of emotional fluctuation. He would begin his Life with small steps around the elders that would teach him to love and live at a faster rate than what should have been. Growing up around the older population in his Life, he would mature faster than most his age. He was taught different things and began to form opinions on matters that should not have touched an innocent adolescent mind. He would learn of honesty, deceit, love, and hate; things that many could not even comprehend at times in their lives. His adolescent opinions would create for him stressful and torn conversations that would leave him pondering about matured conversations at such a young age.
I continued into the faded pages of the book. I found the boy contradicting his thoughts and emotions on matters he thought he had been prepared for, but was only disappointed into a relentless circle of fate. He began to understand that his own hands created the good times and the bad times. Every decision he made was only promoted or tempted by those around him. Only he could create the seconds of his Life.
Reading along I emerged into the clean, crisp pages, as though they had never been touched. I found the boy growing and making new decisions that would forever alter the path of his Life. Careers, relationships, and other bonds begin were in hindsight. He began to take notice of his past and use the knowledge he had gained for the new incidents and quandaries that he was faced with. He began to walk through Life with much larger steps than when he began his journey. He takes fewer risks and puts more thought into what the outcome of the time will be.
Turning to the next page, I find it blank. I flipped through the following pages with hopes that the story would continue, only to find the rest of the pages blank. I flipped through and the rest of the book tells a story of Life, but the end was not there. I flipped back to the beginning and the index was no longer distorted, I understood what the book was about. I looked down to find the authors name, and found that it was my own. I have realized that no matter who or what comes into my Life, I am the author of my book, not them, and I create my own opinions, mistakes, and accomplishments. No one else can write my Life, it is for me.

I read a book today, and the end of it is yet to come.