I am a reader. I am a writer. I am a dreamer.
People assume I do these things to escape.
You couldn't be more right.
I am escaping a world I don't like.
A world I have no control in.
In this world, I am nothing.
I am a color, a height, a weight, a number.
But in the world of books and writing and dreams, I am powerful, I am different, I am anyone I want to be, I matter.
I am accepted by all, without being accused by any.
People are better.
Worlds are endless.
Life is manageable.
Whenever I read a chapter that draws a tear,
I simply flip back to a chapter that draws a smile.
Whenever I dream an unhappy dream, I listen to music and dream a better dream.
It's the same when remembering sweet memories of loved ones.
Except, when we find a memory we love the most, we can't bookmark it and go back to read it again.
We either remember it and shed a tear,
or we forget it, and only remember the memories we wish to forget.
So, yes, I do read and write to escape this world.
But, if you only knew the thrill of escaping this world where you are constantly judged, and bullied, and tossed aside like a tissue after being used,
only to enter a world where you can be anyone you wish to be, do anything you wish to do, go anywhere you wish to go, and say anything you wish to say,
A world where you are not judged but, welcomed...
Would you?
Escape this world and enter your fantasy?
Leave all of this behind?
Leave reality, and enter your mind?
Enter a world where you control everything, and can choose to either turn the page or close the book...
Would you?