sspitzbart42
Soon, I will leave you. Soon, I will move out and be on my own. Soon, I will have responsibility like cooking and cleaning and paying bills. Soon, I will die.
The concept of soon really terrifies me. When you look at it a certain way, isn't everything soon?
I stood in the library, perilously perplexed. As the ocean of books waved and waned in front of me, I wondered, where would I be taken next. Would the wide continent of Narnia sweep me off my feet and romance me until I swore I was the High Queen? Would Hogwarts once again spirit me away under it's breath, showing me what great power I held under the layers of skin and muscles and bones. Or would another journey claim me today? What words would influence me for the next few months? What magic spells would I recite under my breath while I sleepwalked through my days, hoping and wishing and praying for an opportunity to go back to my fantasy-land. My escape. Closing my eyes, I reached out, impulsive, random. The book I pull out, old, leather-bound, smelling of old yellow pages, is what I accept as my next adventure.