Purpose

            I want to make someone fall in love. That is my goal, my purpose. I also want to break that same persons heart. I want to make them cry like a baby over a situation they have no power to change, I want to turn their world upside down, make them think, wonder and question everything they know and love. It sounds harsh, that this kind of destruction is what I was created to do, however, this is my goal, my purpose and I love doing it. Besides, they ask for it.

            Once the falling in love, and the heartbreak process is over, I want to heal them, by making them laugh and suddenly introduce them to someone new. I will gradually start the process all over again and yet again they will love me for it. They will love it when the best friend they thought was lost, they will have made amends with.

            The heart that was broken, I will eventually heal, with a mixture of time and someone new. I will take them through good times and bad, I will give them the best friends, family and relationships they could ever ask for. But I will also make them yell and scream, and want to throw me across the room; and some of them will in fact to that. Again I will make them smile in the next moment, laugh, cry, cheer and jump for joy.

            I will make them feel things they have never felt before or hate to feel. I will make them ask questions they never thought they would ask, and root for the evil villians in life.

            I will eventually be bound and given a hard cover, which I have earned over time. From there I will be distributed around the world, stamped, signed, highlighted, scanned and discussed in classrooms. I will be bought as a present, borrowed and never returned. I will probably be cried on, spilled on and left behind in a bag for months at a time.

            However, as long as you have opened me, and felt something…

            As long as you have laughed, cried, yelled, questioned, thought, cheered, or even thrown me across the room, I have done what was created to do. I have done what my author wanted.

            I have been the success of what my creator put many hours and many dollars into. She was tired but she kept typing me into existence, she was confused so she deleted certain parts of me only to add them back in later. I am the only thing that will keep her completely sane, as long as she has a story to tell because I, and my future brothers and sisters will always be here, ready to be read again by her. I will be a living embodiment of her memories, and I will make the world feel everything she felt, scream when she screamed, cry when she cried and laugh when she laughed.

            Who am I exactly? I am her first book, and most certainly not her last.