Repost: On Types

She's looking through my books for certain types of books while I'm looking through other types of books. She laughs and praises God as she points to the type of books she's looking through, which she thinks of as praiseworthy, in contrast to the type I'm looking through, forgetting that all these books (the ones she's looking through and the ones I'm looking through) are mine. She borrows a book from me; she would like to read this book; she would like to be the type of person who would read this book, and she thinks I'm the type of person who wouldn't read this book, again forgetting it's from me she's borrowing this book. When she tries to read it, she finds it not to her liking; she had expected much more from the book. Years go by, and I ask for my book back. She's forgotten she borrowed it from me; she's forgotten her impression of the book when she did try to read it, she remembers though, that she wants to be the type to have read this book (and liked it), and she remembers that she thinks I'm the type to not like this book, again forgetting the book is mine, as she says: "That book is pure gold."

[Edited 23-11-2022. Posted on Instagram.]