The library became my safe place. Surrounded by all the stories that weren’t mine I felt at ease. The only thing able to bring my mood down, was this dream of mine, slowly killing me.
The pages around me were filled with all the words and sentences I couldn’t write myself, and it was torturous.
The thing I loved the most had turned into my enemy, but still I was unable to let it go. It was my own fault, so I could blame no one but myself.
I’d given up on the dream that could’ve turned to reality and was now mourning in the comfort of everyone else’s words.
So day after day I kept returning, even though it was a painful reminder of all of my broken dreams…
The place I once felt safe in, I now couldn’t seem to escape.
Like I was living in a nightmare, and I wouldn’t wake up ever again.
So I wrote something, (what a dumb statement, really). Inspired by my own thoughts but kinda story-like in some way, (since I actually don’t spend THAT much time at the library… Only a little bit ;P).
Anyways… Hope you like it!