I’m taking a break. Looking down memory lane.
Seeing ones and zeros. I’m swimming. Seems fitting.
Everything is a dream. Came apart at the seams.
There is no me, I’m just a reflection of all the places I’ve been.
All the faces I’ve taken in. All the books that have translated me.
Offered me vital data my surroundings hadn’t given easily.
Lost in the lit section. Lost in reflections more beautiful than the projections thrown at me externally.
Absorbed in spaces that felt like home to me, surrounded by characters who really got me.
A battlefield but then, perfect silence. The drop of a pin. I can suddenly hear the pages turning.
There’s this burning for the scenes tattooed to my memory.
Oh my first black eye, that’s when I was reading the Redwall Series.
The times I woke up feeling like an alien, Tolkien was the only one who could talk me back into my skin.
If a little mouse can exude such bravery. I can remain emotionless in the face of these bullies.
Nothing can hurt me unless I let it, that lesson was profound to me. So young and I knew it to be true.
When you have no other options sometimes you rely on the lessons between the lines.
on what your heroes would do. And suddenly, they are through you…
