We are the curious ones. We are the ones who always want to know more, always more – and often more than one is willing to say. We are never let down by the words because they give us more, and they delve into places that, once on paper, can never be taken back; can never be forgotten. We underline them, we mark them with notes, we journal them, we find our own truth in them and are comforted because they found us too.
We are the observant ones. We are always noticing the way someone walks, or the fifteen different smiles they have. Everyone is a character, and we are used to paying attention; to evaluating so that we don’t miss a beat of the story, of their story, of our story. Because it is all a story, and we are the observers of the story.
We are the story makers. We look for them in every picture, every quote, every tagline. We can find them in every sigh, every shift of the eyes, every gesture. Our minds can run away with them, and the more often they do and the more stories we try the more we get it right. We pay attention and we get better with practice.
We are the readers. We are the ones who want to know more. We are the ones who observe the fictional and the real. We are the ones who create the story, even when there isn’t one there to begin with. We are the ones you write for. We are the ones who make things more interesting because we can find the story in every conversation, in every interaction. We are the ones who will never stop learning, dreaming, hoping, finding. We are the ones will never stop trying to figure it out, and will always be aware that we never will… it’s what keeps us searching, looking, wanting. We are the ones who think there is enough in one life to fill all of the libraries in all of the world. We are the ones who will read about the everyday and the miraculous because we know there is something meaningful to be found in both, as well as in everything in between. We read because we are lonely, afraid, hopeful, relaxed, curious, enchanted. We read because we need someone else inside of our heads to be part of the ever-going conversation.
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
Because I am the reader.
*poem excerpt from E.E. Cummings’ [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]
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