Aimless Talk


I found myself sitting on my bed and typing words that somehow sound like a dolorous epeolatry.

I would love to say that I am weeping myself from certain sadness.

I read books, a lot. Particularly I love to read fiction novels. I love Sidney Sheldon books. They mostly talk about cases which are unpredictable with a copacetic plot.

For me, to read one book of Sheldon is to read a long journey of people even though roles in the novel are fiction, man-made, Sheldon-made.

It does not mean that I never consider other books to read. I just hate to read non-fiction books. They are too real, and reality is hurting (it is killing and haunting too).

I can say that I am the ending changer. I am the executing thunder, and the ideal dreamer. I wanted every ending in a book that I read to be the way that I wished.

I ever read a happy ending book. That was quite happy for me but there was something that bothered me. My favorite role died. She had died an unpeaceful death, and had passed to heaven with her heart broken.

Her ideal man did not know whose eyes adore him the most and hidden somewhere around him. He did not know whose love had returned to land within its depths. It was hers…

The novel was about a triangle love. About fate denial conflicts and someone had to give in on it.

That was a happy ending but I was not that happy. I worked my brain off, set the phantasm of myself. I found my favorite role wearing a wedding dress, sitting in a chapel, waiting for her groom. She looked happy.

My imagination explored every corner of the chapel, and I saw her, the another important role in the novel. She supposed to be the bride but I kicked her out.

She was the one who gave in now

She was crying in silence. I pitied her.

I suddenly got an idea. The man-main role had a brother. He was a good guy, and hard worker. So I decided him to come up in front of that crying woman and cheering her.

The story ended. I smiled.

Thaumaturgy is important to me. Miracles are fake but magnificent.

I closed my book before it reached the ending part. Cause I am afraid of my misguided expectation. I am afraid of failing.

//

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