Poetry
1 min
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Living Inside a Book
LitCon Calgary Public Library
Reality is heavy.
It sits on my chest in crowded rooms,
follows me through hallways
where no one really sees me.
It sits on my chest in crowded rooms,
follows me through hallways
where no one really sees me.
Voices blur together
laughing, talking, living
while I stand there,
feeling like a ghost
in my own life.
Reality is loud
it hums in crowded halls,
whispers expectations,
and shouts when you fall behind.
But then...
There's a book.
Just paper and ink,
but somehow
It feels like a door.
Fantasy...
fantasy is quiet at first.
It waits between pages,
soft as a breath,
until you open the cover.
And when I open it,
I disappear.
I disappear.
Not in a scary way,
not like fading
but like finally becoming
something more
than the quiet version of myself.
Inside a book,
the world loosens its grip.
Time slows.
Problems shrink
into ink and paper.
You are no longer just you.
I am not alone.
You are the girl with a sword,
the boy who saves kingdoms,
the one who finally belongs somewhere.
I fight battles
That actually makes sense.
I feel pain
that has a purpose.
You don't just read
you step inside.
I find people
who don't leave.
You walk beside characters
who feel like friends,
who understand things
no one else seems to notice.
And for a little while,
I don't have to pretend
I'm okay.
In those pages,
no one tells you to be smaller,
quieter,
different.
I don't have to smile
when I feel like breaking.
I don't have to explain
why everything feels too much.
Because the story already understands.
It holds me
in ways reality never does.
Instead,
you are brave.
You are seen.
You matter.
And maybe that's why
so many of us stay a little longer
hidden in chapters,
living in stories,
finding pieces of ourselves
in fictional lives.
And sometimes,
I wish I could stay there
live between the lines,
become someone
worth writing about.
But the last page always comes.
And I'm back here again
same world,
same noise,
same invisible feeling.
Because sometimes
reality is something to survive...
Still...
I keep coming back to books.
Because even if it's temporary,
even if it's not real
books
Books are a place to breathe.
it's the only place
I've ever felt
like I truly belong.
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