(Not exactly the prompt, but oh well)

I love reading

I love books

I want to hold onto the memory of them

Capture it all perfectly in my head

And my need to hold onto that?

Probably why I’m anxious again

I get scared reading things,

And I do mean scared,

That I won’t be able to recall it all perfectly

That things won’t be complete in my head

That I’ll call myself a devoted fan,

And then be out crazied by someone who knows more.

Remembers it all.

And if we want to go deeper, maybe there’s an undertone of inferiority

I don’t want to be bested.

Don’t want to meet someone perfect who does remember everything.

But this is my hobby.

My enjoyment.

I don’t want someone else to have a say in it.

So on the surface to quell this,

I wonder why I can’t just re-read the book like many do

But that’s time that I could use to read something new

Delightful.

Time.

Fear number two.