An Old Book and The Feelings

In a dark corner of the shelf, I was lying since the time immemorial. Now I was An Old Book for her. I remember when she bought me I was quite appealing with a brand new cover, attractive bold titles and meaningful insights with some awesome reviews. She was very happy while holding me in her hand and felt proud. She was extremely curious to know everything about me. She thought I had all she wished for and was totally flaunted with the beautiful sensitive story I stored in, and with the life I contained in me. No sooner I became her first priority to everything. She would accompany me in her thoughts everywhere until she was able to know me all. The day she got to know whatever I contained, I became a thicker lifeless book for her. She soon lost interest in me. I was not that exciting and interesting now as she knew every bit of me. Finally she bought a new book. Yet, she often sometimes go through my pages when bored but now I was apathetic to her with nothing new to say and so there I was, lying in the charcoal dark corner.

I know I was never that bad. I had readers who were into me like anything and admired about feelings and words I had in me.

There was another girl too, not much into books, still bought me even though she didn't find me that interesting. I was sad as I thought that I might be just kept aside without being read as the other one did, but to my disbelief she did read me. But her reading wasn't just turning pages by pages but as she was de-mystifying some hidden treasure. While reading she would save her memories of that day in between my pages. Sometimes lines in me often got connected with her thoughts and events happening in her life, her imaginations and feelings, every small things were being stored in the beautiful words in me. She made marks, drawings, circles as a memory and wrote little notes on my pages. For her, I was not just a book but a collection of her emotions. I never became a day older for her even-though she went through me a number of times. Every time she read me, she felt the turmoil of the emotions and feeling that she had preserved in me and these bunch of feelings only made me more special to her. She kept connected with me as an important part of her life with whom she never got bore.

Our Feelings are no different from the book above mentioned. To some people we are life and soul, a store of wonderful memories and feelings while to others who just pass over us, we are just An Old Book with no life. We should remember, we all are special, we all are interesting, we all have awesome things to be known and to be discovered. Its not the people who become less interesting but its our Feelings and respect that we don't give them. Its similar to our emotion less reading. When we know everything of a person our interest fades out because we never got attached with them. Initially we are attracted because of certain qualities but soon we get use to it and finally it becomes bore and unknowing we loose a wonderful company as An Old Book, which should have been a collection of memory, is left empty in this Inhuman World!

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