A Painful Dedication.

I'm being terribly upset and this post might be a little odd to relate to you. 
Here is a dedication from a book lover to those book she loved :



It's a rather painful day.
A momentary realization when I was planning on having a book gift-away for December.

I lost all my books, the whole little library. 

Due to some complication that we missed when my mother was doing her Hajj, my library vanished. I can't really explain the whole process of how I lost them. But the main point is, I lost all my books. Hundreds of them. The books that I've been collecting since I was 12? 13? 

I've been channeling all my memories, experiences, pain, and stories while I read them. I remember each book's history : where I got it, what happened when I read it, who gave it, what I loved about it. I loved them all. They are my precious items, they kept my stories throughout my life. 

I'm terribly upset. Terribly. Up until the point that I had to locked myself in the lab's toilet to cry myself out. How can I ever replace them? I've been sacrificing a lot of other needs to collect them. Through out my years as a student, I make a limitation on food consumption, just so I can buy 1 book each month. I've created a space that I can put all my books in my room. Up until the point that it was a bit too many to count and my mom asked me to make a library at her office. At that time, I had a hard time to decide on whether I should or should not be apart with them. I spent time lingering in the library every time I went there just to be with them because I missed them. I missed them like you would miss someone. 

I don't know why, but I do treat them so nicely. Maybe because they kept some part of me in each of them. Maybe because I hardly hold on to other things in life. Maybe because I thought they will always be there, so I was not threatened by the thought of losing them. 

But no. 

They took it away from me. Took one thing that I care so much about. They took my past, my stories, my memories. 

This is too much. Why take my books away from me? I have nothing else that valuable enough to compare with them. I just have my books. In some positive point, maybe someone else will love them as much as I did, maybe they will be appreciated more, maybe it will give benefits to the society in some ways. But I'm too upset to think that way. 

I'm not ready to let them go in one shot! 

They were mine. 

Still crying badly in my heart 

:(

Some of them.

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