How Loud My Hollowness Is

I am a wonderfully written tome. Beautifully illustrated and meticulously typeset. I come in two volumes, choked full of epigrams, aphorisms, wit, and passages that break your heart, yet at the same time gladden your spirit.

I don’t need to be read.

I know I am not a bestseller. I am difficult. With sentences striding multiple pages, and a vocabulary of 20,000 real and 15,000 invented words. Not many people have the intellectual breadth or emotional depth to appreciate me. This is only natural.

But I am still a masterpiece. What does it matter that nobody reads me?

It is better I am not read. I don’t want to be made into a movie.

I was written. That’s enough.

If you like my writing you should follow me on Twitter.