Falling out of love

This year I wanted to read as much as I‘ve never done before. I wanted to devour books like they were juicy watermelons on a hot summer day. I wanted to dive into stories that would take over all my mind and soul like the cool water after you jump into the glistering lake. 

But all that happened was that I fell out of love of my biggest passion. Stories trapped in books. Suddenly all those words on these pages became meaningless. Just a pile of words in a language I could no longer understand. Every single letter looked at me and laughed in my face. 

Now I wonder if I miss my oh so old lover. Or if I just miss the time we‘ve had. Dwelling in the past, I am wondering who I am without it. Who am I without a book on my mind? Who am I without words lingering in my thoughts? Who am I without my heart aching for a person that has never really taken a breath? 

There is this empty space somewhere in me, wondering what happened for it  gape like a cave. There is a sense of loss and also of opportunity. I am in pain. I am hurting. I am longing for who I was before this wound was open. A wound a did tear open myself.