Like begets like, money begets honey, life begets ...

By S.D. Sycther

Man’s best friend

Day after day I lie in the library and so much welfare does me for you. But still, you desert me like this. Of course, the humans are like that and there is wonder about it. Because you people think that I am just an object and I don’t have feelings or emotions, but not everything you know has to be correct like me. Even what I know is a little bit flawed. I have to get revised year after year to be the unsurpassed. Just because I can’t be like you and just because I can’t neglect or exploit you, that doesn’t mean I am insensitive. Your bumpy behavior has given me pain and these have been many times, you have played the role of a sadist. There have been numerous times when you have thrown me out of the casement or down the base or in the pond and tried to get purge of me. But all in vain, you had to take me back in your dashboard without any concern of future or the discomfort that you have caused to me every time just because you didn’t have any other choice. But everything happens to me and I stand just a victim to it. It is me who knows it very well how good is you in cheating. Those tits and bits of paper you hear from me body helps you in passing the exam without reading me thoroughly.

But even after seeing so many flaws and similar things happening in front of me, I have to be quiet since I have nothing to do except sit there and relax and wait for someone to come, use me and abscond me again in the places where I have been or where I don’t like to be in. Even the truest friend of mine does the same to me every time he gets an opportunity to do so. There is no permanent relationship for me. I am built to be used and keep if not throw. However, some may consider throwing me after they have sucked in the knowledge from me. But even today there have been some great people living this world who consider taking me home and keeping me as a trophy in the showcase. But I shall be grateful to such people forever for helping me and respecting me. I am still grateful to the librarians who would fight for me with anyone who mistreats me; these people are such that they may not fight for their wives but still fight for me.

My creator is not holiness, it is the little author who sleeps in his little courtyard and sleeps for a while only to awaken into the world full of dreams. He is poorer than I am, he is forced to sell his arts for a living and it's him that I don’t mind selling myself because separation is true love.

Hmm, at last, my acknowledgment shall go to the bookworms who have developed many things and it is because of them I live in this world. They stare at me sometimes as if they have seen me for the very first time, for hours and hours they shall be staring at me as if I was a beautiful woman in her early 30s.

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