November 19, 2009
By Anonymous

After I escape from the pages of a book, I feel reborn into a life I never belonged to. As if I had been gone for years into someone else’s addicting life.. My life went on hold. Everything around me stopped. Time. Feelings. Sleep. Senses. Everything neglected and untouched. But when I am set free, I am utterly confused. Upset that I have nothing else to hide behind, my drug was gone as my finger ran out of pages to flip through. I came out and was stuck where I was in my odd life; not in anyway more prepared to face what lay before me. Clumsily I write this, as I have nothing else I can do, my mind is not with me yet, it still yearns for the 10 more pages that might stop the headache and bring on the rush. But, until I find the next book to cover behind, I am left undefended with nothing to block the pain, the hurt, the longing. Pray for me. Pray that my books set me free.

The author's comments:
I wrote this piece around the age of 14. I had just spent the entire weekend reading book after book. I ran out of anything interesting to read and decided I had to live a little bit. This is what came of me living.

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