sitting here after closing, the ache behind the eyes like they're trying to see in every direction at once… as if consciousness could somehow fill all the empty shelves, every unread page… feels greedy, almost, wanting to be so much more than just this skull full of stars. and the guilt of feeling greedy when there's so much suffering, so much…not enough for everyone… it all just keeps echoing louder in the library's quiet, the books watching, waiting, each spine a silent judgment