I always hated love stories, but I never really read one.
I had another fight with my father today. That man really hates me. This time the reason was my unusual clothing style. I was always trying to be different and that was probably one of the main reasons we argued so often.
Anyway, he started yelling like a maniac and wouldnt stop so at one point i couldnt take it anymore. I grabbed the first book i spotted at that moment, put it in my bag and runned out of my stinky little apartment. Next thing i remember myself doing is lurking through the dark alleys of my town like a zombie, with my giant baby blue headphones on, serching for the first bench in a dark park. And i found it. It was perfect, covered in the shade of the nearby chesnut tree, with as good as no people around to stare or laugh at me. So i planted myself on the wide wooden bench, took of my giant headphones and took out the book i grabbed before - and was quite shocked to find it was a love story. As long as i could remember i always hated love stories. I never was romantic or found by anything like that. It only disgusted me.
But anyways, i hadnt much choice so i opened the small white book and start reading. First it seemed boring. The print was small and it wasnt easy to read in the dark but i continued anyway. And after a while actually started likeing it. Wow. I was reading a love story and liked it. Sounds quite new to me. I even found it that interesting that when i felt like going home i couldnt make myself close the book. I couldnt stop reading. Books are powerfull. Amazing, isnt it?
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