To all the books I’ve ever read,
Thank you for transforming me and adding value to my life in ways I could have never imagined otherwise. You have given me opportunities to flourish my thought-processes. You have made me believe that my pain and my pleasures are not mine alone. The ones who fill the void of your canvas with their words, in different parts of the world, go through the same repertoire of emotions as I do. We may be two worlds apart but you connected us.
You made me come across the different realities of life. Some realities hurt me deep within. Some made me question my own existence. Some changed my worldviews. Some realities gripped my lungs so tight, that for days I felt possessed by those words. And some realities helped me breathe, become one with myself, and feel proud of my very existence. Thank you for containing me in you.
You don’t know the unceasing importance you have in my life. If it wasn’t for you that I had taken refuge in, during times of crisis—I would have withered, decayed, or even gone. You have helped me hold myself together many times. You have given me hope when I was crawling through the barren ruthlessness of life. Most importantly you helped me think. Think for myself when my thoughts had no mercy on me.
In this utterly confusing world, you give me clarity. In this innately meaningless life, I find meaning in you. In this digitally warped existence, you help me disconnect from all else and connect to myself.
For the countless beautiful experiences, you’ve given me; and for the days I look forward to spending in your magnanimity—I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Your unrelenting reader