Of days past, my Relationship with the Library
Growing up, we did not have a TV and we didn't watch any movies or go out much.
Most of the time I would be inside, reading books in my room.
However, One of the places that I liked to be at was the town library.
My parents would drive us there occasionally.
The guy that was in charge had been there for 40 years, he knew my dad when he was still a child.
My dad got me a library card and signed it as I could not write yet.
I learned reading before writing because my dad taught me to read.
The library was like a holy temple to me.
There was no noise, no yelling, no stress like at home.
It had huge glass windows so the sunlight would shine in.
The atmosphere was very relaxing, maybe what some would call ASMR today.
Just people whispering to each other, muted footsteps, the sound of dry pages being turned...
The smell was also very nice. You had to walk up a spiral staircase to get to the library and the air was permeated with the scent of old paper and ink.
Even now I open and smell every book I get because sometimes one of them has that specific smell.
It is intoxicating to me, highly stimulating. idk how to describe it but it makes me very happy.
They had these red beanbags that you could sit in, by the windows, but also chairs and tables hidden behind huge shelves of books.
Sometimes I would hide there.
I spent almost every single day there while in HS. It was my citadel, my resting place.
I would go there during recess to eat lunch.
Sometimes we had an hour off or got to leave early. While other kids went out and bought pizza and sweets, I would go to the library.
The staff saw me grow up, they knew me by name, I even had minor privileges there if I forgot to return something on time.
Sometimes someone would come with me, one of my "friends", but for some reason they just couldnt stand the library.
They just couldnt stand it.
Everytime we went they wanted to leave immediately.
It is like they had this strange aversion to reading and books in general.
Almost nobody went to the library because they enjoyed it like me.
Most went to waste time, browse the internet or to study.
But I genuinely liked it. I loved every single fucking second I got to spend there
Took me years to figure out why they didnt like it.
As I have written before, among the 5 most outcast rejects in my school of 1200 students, I was the alienated one.
Everybody had some kind of redeeming ability that they would flex with to the others.
One was autistically good at programming.
One had a lot of copes and wealthy parents.
They all watched TV and had Smartphones.
etc...
I didnt have these things and I was fairly small at that age as well.
As a person that genuinely enjoyed reading books, as a person that would carry books with him all the time, I was ostracized even among my incel peers.
That is why they didnt want to be seen with me in the library.
I loved that place so much. Hard to put in words.
I enjoyed just walking around between the shelves, sometimes sliding my fingers across the backs of the books.
I enjoyed sitting in the sun with a book on my chest, just dozing off...
I used to sleep with books too.
But all things have to come to an end eventually.
The end of all you know
master of copes
is there a reason
to exist...
The old guy retired.
The person that had been the heart, soul and spirit of that place was now gone.
Instantely everything turned to shit.
They replaced the old master with a progressive, short-haired foid and a dude who probably was gay, from the looks of it.
They began destroying the library piece by piece, tearing it apart like they were harvesting organs for the chinese government.
Books, they started throwing them away in droves.
Everyday they would just put boxes filled with books outside the library for free.
The leftovers would be destroyed.
They replaced the books with new media.
The rules became lax, very lax.
...
I remember the first time I walked up that staircase and there was something off, not quite right.
The smell,
it was gone.
Then I walked in and... it was LOUD...
there was a FUCKING DOG in the library, a big one with a female owner. Of course.
The shelves, they had holes in them where books used to be, like rotting wounds on a corpse.
I turned around and walked away, I couldnt take it.
I felt like some part of me had gone missing.
I never went back to that descecrated corpse, I was not eager to bear witness to the rape of my childhood.
A few days after that incident, something else happend.
My library card, after lasting for almost 15 years, after having been through hell and back with me,...
it broke.
It was in my purse, I dont know how it even happend.
I pulled it out and it was shattered.
Maybe it was a sign.
Nowadays I sometimes think back to that time and the hours I spent in that place.
I hope the afterlife is a library just like that.
I want to be a little boy again, I want to be there again, reading in the sunlight.
Growing up, we did not have a TV and we didn't watch any movies or go out much.
Most of the time I would be inside, reading books in my room.
However, One of the places that I liked to be at was the town library.
My parents would drive us there occasionally.
The guy that was in charge had been there for 40 years, he knew my dad when he was still a child.
My dad got me a library card and signed it as I could not write yet.
I learned reading before writing because my dad taught me to read.
The library was like a holy temple to me.
There was no noise, no yelling, no stress like at home.
It had huge glass windows so the sunlight would shine in.
The atmosphere was very relaxing, maybe what some would call ASMR today.
Just people whispering to each other, muted footsteps, the sound of dry pages being turned...
The smell was also very nice. You had to walk up a spiral staircase to get to the library and the air was permeated with the scent of old paper and ink.
Even now I open and smell every book I get because sometimes one of them has that specific smell.
It is intoxicating to me, highly stimulating. idk how to describe it but it makes me very happy.
They had these red beanbags that you could sit in, by the windows, but also chairs and tables hidden behind huge shelves of books.
Sometimes I would hide there.
I spent almost every single day there while in HS. It was my citadel, my resting place.
I would go there during recess to eat lunch.
Sometimes we had an hour off or got to leave early. While other kids went out and bought pizza and sweets, I would go to the library.
The staff saw me grow up, they knew me by name, I even had minor privileges there if I forgot to return something on time.
Sometimes someone would come with me, one of my "friends", but for some reason they just couldnt stand the library.
They just couldnt stand it.
Everytime we went they wanted to leave immediately.
It is like they had this strange aversion to reading and books in general.
Almost nobody went to the library because they enjoyed it like me.
Most went to waste time, browse the internet or to study.
But I genuinely liked it. I loved every single fucking second I got to spend there
Took me years to figure out why they didnt like it.
As I have written before, among the 5 most outcast rejects in my school of 1200 students, I was the alienated one.
Everybody had some kind of redeeming ability that they would flex with to the others.
One was autistically good at programming.
One had a lot of copes and wealthy parents.
They all watched TV and had Smartphones.
etc...
I didnt have these things and I was fairly small at that age as well.
As a person that genuinely enjoyed reading books, as a person that would carry books with him all the time, I was ostracized even among my incel peers.
That is why they didnt want to be seen with me in the library.
I loved that place so much. Hard to put in words.
I enjoyed just walking around between the shelves, sometimes sliding my fingers across the backs of the books.
I enjoyed sitting in the sun with a book on my chest, just dozing off...
I used to sleep with books too.
But all things have to come to an end eventually.
The end of all you know
master of copes
is there a reason
to exist...
The old guy retired.
The person that had been the heart, soul and spirit of that place was now gone.
Instantely everything turned to shit.
They replaced the old master with a progressive, short-haired foid and a dude who probably was gay, from the looks of it.
They began destroying the library piece by piece, tearing it apart like they were harvesting organs for the chinese government.
Books, they started throwing them away in droves.
Everyday they would just put boxes filled with books outside the library for free.
The leftovers would be destroyed.
They replaced the books with new media.
The rules became lax, very lax.
...
I remember the first time I walked up that staircase and there was something off, not quite right.
The smell,
it was gone.
Then I walked in and... it was LOUD...
there was a FUCKING DOG in the library, a big one with a female owner. Of course.
The shelves, they had holes in them where books used to be, like rotting wounds on a corpse.
I turned around and walked away, I couldnt take it.
I felt like some part of me had gone missing.
I never went back to that descecrated corpse, I was not eager to bear witness to the rape of my childhood.
A few days after that incident, something else happend.
My library card, after lasting for almost 15 years, after having been through hell and back with me,...
it broke.
It was in my purse, I dont know how it even happend.
I pulled it out and it was shattered.
Maybe it was a sign.
Nowadays I sometimes think back to that time and the hours I spent in that place.
I hope the afterlife is a library just like that.
I want to be a little boy again, I want to be there again, reading in the sunlight.
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