"In a kingdom far, far away..." was the beginning of every story, of every book. Perhaps they used different words, but they shared the same meaning. She read all of them, everyone began the same way and ended just so. A library of thousand kingdoms and none changed the mundane setting of their stage. There was never a change. It was simple. It was monotonous. It was tedious. It was, simply said, boring. In all truth, it was a precise reflection of her life. She lived in a world where nothing ever changed, and everything seemed dull and lifeless. And although she hated that not even every book from every kingdom could help her escape her repetitive life, she kept reading the stories. Why, is one of the few questions she couldn't give an answer for. Perhaps it was the only thing there was to do, or perhaps it was the only thing that kept her sane, or perhaps it was an excuse to say that her life could change if she stopped reading. Perhaps if she put down the books she would finally escape the endless labyrinth of the same and uneventful world she lived in. But she knew that her life wouldn't change and that there was no escape from the maze, that sooner or later, one way or another, she would always return back to the heart of the labyrinth.
She read once that "A room without books is like a body without a soul". The book was in a bookshelf, 56th row from the 3rd door and 12th across, to be specific. To be even more specific, the 4th shelf and 5th book across from the left. She didn't remember all of the books ' locations so specifically, but in the time she spent reading she learned the rough location of most of them. The reason she remembered this book was because she knew how wrong it was. The book was ancient, but clearly, the author didn't live in the same world as she did because no matter if you had a million books or none, it didn't affect anything else except space. She knew that if the quote was correct, she would live in a world of wonders where she didn't feel like she was constantly drowning with no escape. How could a book save her from her life, from a life that had her every step and move planned out for her, for a life where she wasn't allowed change. But she kept reading the stories that, once interesting and wondrous, have become nothing but a rephrasing of the last. Yes, there was a time when she couldn't predict the beginning and the end of every book, however, that was a long time ago. For others, it was only a matter of a few years, but for her, it was an eternity that she stopped counting days for. For her, it was long enough that she no longer noticed, or cared, whether a minute, a day, a month or a year has passed in the last moment. In the moments between reading books, she hardly paid attention anymore, but she was always alert to anything she would deem as new. She was always looking through the mundane world memorizing everything and seeing it exactly the same way the next day. And although she was slowly drowning in a world of indifference, there were moments when she thought about what it felt like to take a breath.
913 days before