The Secrets Within Pages

He Made Me Feel Brave

Sometimes, I compare our society to the civilisations before and think, what a decline. Sure with modernisation came advancement and technology but at what cost? Technology has both benefitted and degenerated humanity. It has eased everyday tasks but has taken a toll on our survival instincts, on our diligence. It has made us indolent. We went from hunting for our food and creating our own shelter to having excessive amounts of food and drowning in debt for buying a home. And yet with all this easy access to our necessities and desires, we are still ungrateful, still so selfish we refuse to help our fellow humans who suffer, who haven't a morsel of proper food in months. We do not know how to appreciate and practise gratitude and that will be our downfall. Warriors would exert themselves to the absolute limit without a complaint, prepared to die in battle and then today, we cannot endure a school exam without completely breaking down. Hard work and resilience has been twisted so far to be perceived as impossible but what is the value of something if it wasn't attained with blood, sweat, and tears.

Is it really worthwhile if you didn't suffer a little bit?

Every individual wears glasses and each are a little different than the rest. Some are clear and rose-coloured. Some are cracked. Some tainted. And they all deliver different messages to us all. They are the conduit through which we perceive life but they can be very dangerous if one has a misplaced amount of reliance on them, if they never question how they're seeing their world, if what they're actually seeing is the truth. Negligence, ignorance, injustice, they are all the leaves of the same plant- unawareness. If one isn't aware of their vices, their shortcomings then how can they reflect and change in order to reach actualisation, to be enlightened. It is a poison that leeches in the minds of too many, they have become so stagnated they cannot even recognize their ills- it is truly pitiful.

I reflect on the whirlwind of a year this was. The situations that have befallen me, some I only thought existed within the pages of books. And yet, here I am having followed potential criminals into the darkest parts of town, been in the midst of bloody murders and investigations, attended a ball that was something out of a fairytale- albeit with a tragic plot twist. I've lost and gained, been frightened and thrilled but all for what?

There are so many loose ends. I haven't heard a word from Sonders and the police- I don't know if that should calm me or worry me. A pool of discomfort swirls within me, perhaps the absence of work and studies- the lack of distraction adds to my skepticism and uneasiness. I hated ignoring my instincts, "Follow your gut" was a mantra I whole-heartedly followed and going it against it never turned out well.

The sweeping sound of paper sliding under the front door, steals me away from the solitude of my thoughts. Swiftly, I pick it up to see a flyer of sorts on vintage parchment and Mediaeval font that read,

Annual Poetry Reading

Venue: Bodleian Library, Oxford University.

Time: 5-7pm

I had been so caught up in everything else, I had completely forgotten about the poetry reading, it was one of the only interesting events I ever had the chance to attend. In all honesty, ever since I moved to Oxford my life had increasingly become more spontaneous and unexpected.

Ever since I met Silas, that is.

I grip the paper, contemplating if I should go or if I should see Sonders, after all her silence on the case surely isn't good.

How mighty the burden of decision-making.

And how incessant the desire to avoid responsibility.

The poetry reading wins.

~~~

The crunch of snow beneath my feet slowly dissipates as I reach the towering, almost castle-like library. Despite the cold, the welcoming walls of Oxford never failed to grant me a warm embrace. I enter through the mahogany doors to feel the bustling aura of curious individuals, hungry for words. Hundreds of candles and old-timey lamps light up the room as people scatter all over. The smell of books and parchment, its woody, nostalgic and almost vanilla scent permeates the air- igniting memories that play like a film in my mind.