So, recently I’ve been addicted, well let’s say utterly obsessed with reading books. Young adults, romance, urban fantasy, historical novels. Why? Why do we need fiction to live through reality? Let’s say life is not a fairytail, there’s no good or evil to fight for, no fate and I cannot bring myself to believe there could possibly be a person we’re destined to be with.

In short, life and reality are bad, while books and their stories are something I consider being sacred.

This afternoon, me and my friend went to watch The Fault in Our Stars the movie! Was I excited? A bit, but I knew it wouldn’t be the same. I learned already from past experiences. Movies cannot contain all the feelings, the magicalness of written words.

The actions, the phrases they said. They were, most of them, from the book. When they said they didn’t want to change anything, I do believe them, cause it was as it should have been. I still feel, or better I do not feel the same way about it tho. It seemed real and not real at the same time. How could something born from the mere, even if awesome, imagination of a mere living human be any real anyways?!

I sighed, I cried and I ate my potatoes chips while drinking my pear juice through a straw, but my heart still felt empty and distant.

It’s like “Ceci n’est pas une pipe”. Movie was not the real thing. Nothing can be like the real thing as the real thing itself. In this case the real thing is the book, the written words, the abstract concept of this fiction.