Read To Self Novels & Stories

He has the quiet satisfaction of someone who knows a piece of work is complete and is ready to let it belong to the archive instead of only himself. I read. The first paragraph speaks directly to the reader. You have read the invitation more than once. The first time it did not yet feel true for you. You read it again, and then again. Now you are reading this letter, another form of the same invitation, and you are still deciding. That is exactly right. The decision belongs to you. There is no correct number of readings. The second paragraph continues.

Me: Read yours TeacherPet: ooh TeacherPet: well? Me: Well… Me: There were a few mistakes… TeacherPet: hmm Me: But I didn't catch them until I read it again TeacherPet: again? Me: Yeah, on the third time anyway. Me: Because I was too amazed the first two times to notice anything else. TeacherPet:!! TeacherPet: really? Me: Really. TeacherPet: i'm so glad.. TeacherPet: that means alot TeacherPet: coming from you, I mean

And on the table, my article. Printed out. Multiple pages, paper-clipped at the corner, the ink still sharp and dark on the white paper. I crossed to it before I had made the decision to cross to it and picked it up and read the first paragraph and then the second and then the third and the cold that moved through me was the specific cold of reading your own words that you do not remember writing with that level of clarity or that level of intent. My last name was not there. But Rydan’s was.

Sent back one transmission. Three words. I will come.

Hindi ko agad naituloy ang paghinga matapos mabasa ang unang linya ng sulat. Pakiramdam ko ay biglang lumiit ang silid habang nakatitig ako sa lumang papel na hawak namin ni Lucien. "If you're reading this... then something went terribly wrong." Ilang segundo kaming walang imik. Hindi ko alam kung ano ang mas nakakatakot—ang nilalaman ng sulat o ang katotohanang kami mismo ang nagsulat nito.

I set the phone face down, picked it up again and read it one more time How could this be possible?

“You wrote it.” “Yes.” “For yourself?” “Yes.” “And for me?” I hesitated. Then nodded. “I think so.” Something broke open in his expression. He inhaled, steadying himself. “I read it,” he said quietly. My pulse skipped. “You did?” “Every word.” The room seemed to lean in. “I saw myself,” he continued. “Not as I wanted to be seen but as I was. Flawed. Afraid. Loving you badly when I should’ve loved you bravely.”

He unfolded the paper. "I can't save you from yourself anymore. - C" He read it once. Then again. Then again. And again. And again. Seven times. He counted. He couldn't stop himself. The words burned into his retinas, seared themselves into his brain. I can't save you from yourself anymore.

SO KEEP READING AND ENJOY ! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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