*I wrote this yesterday on Tumblr. I wanted to write it on here too.
I am just like one of those books tucked under the shelf.
Most of the people in the world choose not to even bother looking at the cover.
The ones that do, a lot of them quickly decide they do not want to read it.
Then, there are a special few, that do choose to read it. They get to read the plain text. The story.
And the really smart ones find the heart behind the plain text. The author’s, how do you call them, secrets?
However, some of these people, most of these people, decide to close the book without finishing the story. And that is fine. Some, close it without a choice.
The story may be long. Few actually manage to finish it. Even fewer understand it even a little bit.
Then, it comes to the author. The one who knows everything about the story. Absolutely everything. The one who has written every detail, made every ink blot, and has read over it probably thousands of more times than the others. Who loves it, and if in this case, the story loves it too. In this case, it’s God.
