I’ve closed many books in life. You read the last lines. You read them a second time and you sit with it in your hands. You relive the good and the bad and walk through the things that may never have an answer. Then you sit with the book before you and you thank it for what you felt, and wonder if you’ll ever read something that wrecks you so beautifully and you take a deep breath. You smell the ink on pages that smell like the history of raw emotions. There are dried tears marking pages of the best reads. You feel the weight of the book and you test the binding you may have abused. You fold back the dog eared pages as you prepare to start a new book because you don’t need to go over the important bits you tried to relive. You’ve internalized those memories and they are carefully kept in the forefront of your mind, no matter how many times you’ve tried to ignore their significant clues to the ending you didn’t see coming. It’s time to put it down and move on to the next one.
As per Dr. Cantu via Dr. Calabrese at Cal State LA, never deny literature as something that is not a part of your heritage. Don’t give it to someone else because it was written in a language not your own. Don’t deny yourself by giving ownership of a text away to anti-intellectual whims. Literature is universal with themes that cross cultures. Its values are eternally true.
As for your individual story, we are surprisingly adaptable to revision.