I was living by a list, a list filtered from the book you handed me.
The book titled "the book of life".
I never really liked the book, but yet tried to understand why. Why make a list?
I couldn't ask for fear you'll walk away. For fear you'll laugh and call me foolish.
So i learnt and memorised the list. And followed every word from the book i was gifted; but yet i wasn't happy. Atlas i asked why, but you talked me down and asked me to tone down on the whys. The whys i asked because people would stare.
They'll stare and call me foolish or rather laugh.
I am trying to wash myself of all i learnt, from the book titled "the book of life". Because i realise now there is no way to live.
Scrubs, sponge and soaps i have purchased, but yet can't forget.
I know and understand now because, i prepared a home made soap. And i used a sponge made from my thoughts and theories, just theories though.
I understand why now, or so i think. The book of life was authored by insecurities. I never flipped the back cover to read the authors note. I was so invested in pleasing. To tell you i have read the book, like a child waiting on a reward after completing her chores. I understand why there is a book titled "the book of life".
But its too late to tell what i think, not because i know you'll laugh but because you're gone now.
I let you slip away. You were gone by the time. By the time i built a soap factory, with a franchise called " sponges". Yea you left.
And i hope you've burnt the book titled "the book of life", because the author was whack. And no one really knows life the way they think they do.
P.s this is not a letter, this is just one of my many thoughts, my many whys you laugh off and say people will call you crazy.
Oh yeah i am crazy now. I down some tablets of silence every now and then to feel normal. But i get body itches.
Itches to write a book. A book titled "the lies they feed you". I hope you read it. That's if i get to write it, because i don't want to seem crazy.
