To All The Books I Didn’t Buy,

I was standing at the counter, holding a copy of If On A Winter’s Night A Traveler and Thomas Hobbes’ Leviathan. I had told myself those were the only two ones I needed at the moment. But you – your doleful eyes, your voiceless calling out to me – kept me glancing back at you.

Look.

Then look away.

Look again.

And look away. 

Shaking your pretty face from my eyes, I nodded with a faint smile when the cashier asked “would that be all, ma’am?” 

How to answer it, huh? With you staring daggers right into my weak fangirl soul! OF COURSE THAT WOULDNT BE ALL!! But what do I do? Do I go back and grab you by the hand, take you home with me, and cherish you for years to come? 

“No. No, Rain. You cannot do that. You have us to think of as well. You cannot be so selfish.” came a voice from deep inside my mind, from a corner I had chosen to forget my room even had. That dusty corner. And in that dusty corner was a stack of voices unheard. Roads untraveled. People unmet. And I have a responsibility towards them, after all. I cannot be so careless unfortu-fucking-nately!!!

But my eyes betray me.

They still end up reaching out to you.

And I see you reaching out to me.

You want me to be the one who holds you, get lost in the world contained in you. But as I think it through just once more, I realize it’s time. The cashier hands me the packet and the change. I clench my jaw as I will my eyes to not look back. The threshold arrives. And I cross it. I am on the other side now, the door closing behind me. 

But I am greedy. Greedy for one more glance at you. Just one more. It won’t be enough but at least it’ll be something. 

So I do. I look back. One last time. To pierce through your cover and catch a glimpse of the world you contain, the world I probably won’t be able to become a part of.

And I see you there. Still calling out to me, hidden in between a stack of other paperbacks a beautiful lovely pink cover with your name written over it, enticing me with its beauty.  It was love at first sight after all for I knew and I believed in the story your pages contained.

But alas, your fate. Or rather mine. Or maybe it’s just the lack of enough time but you’ll be forever listed under “All The Books I’ll Never Have the Pleasure of Reading.” 😦

Dear Book-Bloggers,

First of all, HOW ARE YOU? Doing good? Killing it? Reminding yourself how absolutely awesome you are?

I hope so because believe me your passion hasn’t gone unnoticed. I see you churning out posts after posts, pouring your heart in them. Stating BOLDLY what YOU think, what YOUR opinions are. And doing so in the most beautiful and visually appealing manner.

Do you think we don’t realise how much effort goes into maintaining those gorgeous blogs?

We do.

I do.

I know how time consuming and mentally exhausting this whole process can be. On the surface it seems like we are living the dreamreading what we love and then gushing about it like a bunch of cute and excited fans. And while, it’s true to an extent, I don’t forget the underlying hard work. 

How many many hours have you spent finding just the right words?
How many websites have you scoured trying to find THE EXACT gif that compliments your posts?
How many failed attempts did it take to make those beautiful graphics that you adorn your writing with?
How many times have you had to give up doing something else just to make sure you reply to those lovely comments on time? And how bad did you feel when you realised you missed a couple?

It’s a painful process sometimes. Almost like a full time job. I am not saying we don’t enjoy it or we aren’t happy doing it – but there ARE days when it just feels like too much.

What are we even doing it for? For ourselves, yes. For our own personal satisfaction. But also for the encouragement we get from others. For those wonderful interactions and those beautiful friends you have made here.

But then, something happens that dampens your spirits. Some ignorant people make stupid remarks and try to fill your head with doubts and complex. And suddenly, you start questioning everything.

Why am I here if what I am doing is not even valued properly?

Well, I am here to remind you that it IS valued. Don’t you DARE think that all those wonderful reviews that you write have any less value than those reviewing books on other platforms.

Think about the joy of the author when they see your wonderfully worded review about THEIR book! How uplifting must THAT feel. We read books because there is just something about the way those properly and immaculately placed words make us feel, don’t we? Well, your reviews have the same effect on the authors. They feel valued, just as they DESERVE. They put out content – they share it. For themselves, yes. But also for us. And your reviews help them realise how exactly their words made YOU feel.

Remember – there is power in the written word. And you are the writer of all those beautiful and uplifting posts. There is beauty in that.

So take pride in your work. YOU ARE INVALUABLE for the readers, the authors, the publishers, AND for your fellow book-bloggers. ️

ALL THE LOVE,

R A I N ❤

Dear Bilbo,

You have my heart.

It’s been a while since I came to visit you, I know. But don’t you assume that I have forgotten about you. You live in me, just like your story does – eternally. You changed me, even when I didn’t want to. You have added so much to my life that I cannot help but get misty eyed at the very moment something reminds me of you it could be a little word, a certain kind of weather, a feeling – I am not sure what to call this, but it’s safe to say that I am in love with you; in love with every bit of your personality, of your actions, of the way you were, are, and forever will be. It’s impossible to miss you because you are always here – present in the little acts I do all day long.

Whenever I look outside the window in my room, my mind wanders hither and thither only to settle – always – on you, Bilbo. I cannot help but wonder what the sky must be looking like from that beautiful house you live in. Bag-end – my favorite place to holiday. You remember my last visit? It was a winter morning and I was feeling particularly sad that day. I don’t remember why exactly but I was anxious to leave my house and go somewhere extraordinarily simple, where life is counted in moments. I wanted to go somewhere magical. And as soon as my eyes rested on the book containing your life, I knew where, my dear Hobbit. 

You might not know this but I jumped out of my bed, grabbed the book and hugged it tightif you randomly felt suffocated just a little bit around that time, it was me, for sure. 

I opened the pages and there you were – “in a hole in the ground.” Why do you have to be so adorable all the time, huh? It’s annoying how much you make me adore you. 😒 

I knocked on your door, and you thought it was Gandalf. Typical of you, Bilbo, to forget me so soon! That left me just a little bit heartbroken. Still, I was happy to see that mildly irritated face of yours at the very mention of “adventure.” How do you do it, though, I wonder – make the most ridiculously adorable expressions? 

I was sitting right alongside you on that dining table when you were nervously shaking your leg, at the prospect of facing a dragon. You didn’t know your own strength, dear Hobbit. I did. I have always admired how you just dropped everything and ran away to have an adventure, going against your very nature. That moment fills me with tears of joy – imagining you hopping on the little road down the Shire, eager to catch the dwarves lest they go on without you. 

Your courage, when it was needed, your  kindness, where it was required, your homesickness, when it was called for, your love for your friends, when they were all you really had – was, is, and always will be a motivation to all of us, Bilbo.

You have no idea how loved you are, how adored. There are countless others, like me, who love to visit Bag-end again and again just for the fun of your company but it’s safe to say that NONE OF THEM LOVES YOU LIKE I DO; none of them values you like I do. 

And although you’ve left now – gone to Valinor with the Elvesremember that Bag-end will always belong to you; the shire will always be yours; the very word Hobbit will be yours and yours only. None other compares. 

15th member of the company,

R A I N