A Book

I believe that we are all like books. Having the power to a capture a wanderer in the enchanting trap of our own words. Painting our lives. Spilling ourselves on these pages. I just turn out to be a closed one. Reluctant to spill myself. My soul is like a book that hasn’t been proofread. I have my own flaws and imperfections. Maybe a guy will come along and realuse I’m perfect without any editing. My soul has been spilt along the pages of my book and I’m afraid that I am just not interesting enough to capture the thoughts of a guy. I hope I’m wrong and that I’m good enough. I just hope.

P. S. I’m sorry but this post is just what I feel about nowadays. It might not be what you expect out of me but I think someone who feels the same way would understand what I mean on a deeper level.


One thought on “A Book

  1. I do understand you, not that well but I know how it feels because in this age everyone of us has felt the terrible emotion of loneliness and all they want from people is to feel wanted with their imperfections and flaws. I truly hope you find that guy who finds beauty I’m your imperfections and proudly says, “Loving you was my favourite mistake.”

    May the odds ever be in your favour!
    Keep smiling and shining for your loved ones.
    Enigma 🙂


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