eating your words for breakfast

it's quite rare when one finds a story or a novel that feels like a movie. not to say that the story or novel one holds so dear was created into a film to diminish what self-made images you had of the story, but rather, a story or novel that feels like a movie in that it becomes feel-good. there are movies in everyone's life that keeps them together at the seams when the rest of the world is playing seam-ripper. a novel has never done this for me. i have never sat down in a puddle of tears thinking that a book would improve the matter. i'm a reader, too, as much as a girl can be a reader. no, a book was never significant enough to bring me out of the, well, mean reds….until breakfast at tiffany's came along. mind you, there is a movie for this book but it hardly does it justice; if anything, it's drastically disappointing, leaving all of the spunk and spirit out that is full-blown in the written work. it's the kind of book that leaves you reveling in its dialogue. males master themselves after the narrator, perhaps, and all girls, well, you're putting on the red rouge before you can truly consider yourself a pseudo figure of ms. golightly. it becomes this small sub-life of your mind, this little resort away from the ordinary and even the scary. i feel as though it was not only a feel-good story that never needed a movie, but a new figment of my mind that i can use to feel renewed. in life, we all need a reminder that there is much more to our surroundings than we ever realize. we can never imagine that anyone belongs to us until they are no longer there, and we are always considered travelers because life is, abet cliched, a journey that doesn't stop until you do. just hope you don't stop before you've finished making your face and packed away the tiffany's. and never, no matter what, forget that there is always something in life to purposefully forget in order to stay a forever traveler.