Re-start

I'm drowning, sinking on the bottom of sea. Covered with 100 thousand opinions that are pushing me down, far from the surface, far from the air. While I drown, I wonder how did this happen, how all those opinions reached me, or if I reached them why now I'm sinking.

Feeling like an egg chased by thousand of "want to get inside"'s sperms. They knock on my door, ring my bell, stick their faces on my window, while I hide inside my little house that seems is going to crash soon.

There is pause, a silence, most like inside me. And I take a decision, not knowing if is the best one or not, but taking it... My house explode, with it the windows, the door, the bell the sperm, the sea.

I have to start from the scratch, build again my ideas about the world and myself... Somebody told me is never late to start, and I believe it, because at the end it doesn't feel like a start at least this time the knowledge of how to build a house is within me.

Chapter I: I am

I am an open book. Hidden on the back of the shelves, waiting for someone to have the will to read me. I snick around the other books, hide behind them, and often doing that I push them forward and make them be more visible. I'm the force on the back, the impulse that is not notice.

I wonder if I really don't want to be seen, or I'm just to scare of showing myself. Meantime I'm just there behind thousand of books, reading them from time to time. I have to admit I learn a lot of interesting things not just by reading but also watching from the small hole in the corner, how some book are read with passion and other with disgusts.

I don't know what is my content, is quite hard to read myself, not just for the uncomfortable position I need to engaged but also for the fear of what I might have to read. Some people had read me, and said I am a novel, full of stories and some sorrows. I try to believe them, even if is hard to think that a novel would look like me.

I've seen books that are novels, they are thicker, with strong covers and with fancy letter. How could I be a novel? if does famous ones doesn't look like me. Maybe does who read me, doesn't know anything about book. Or maybe there are more types of novel in this world.