I hide myself within the creases of my book, turning pages restlessly, absorbing every word that can possibly enter my mind and imagining that sometimes I had the life of the characters inside of the stories because, you see as the corners of each page dance across my fingertips I become just a tad more crippled than I already am. Using very intriguing words as my crutch because my spine has been replaced with something far more fragile than bones.
Pages, pages and words is what I am made of because if the wind dare blow I will be nothing more than a scattered story on the side of the road that no one will ever take the time of day to glance at. And just like words you will hear me but as time move on I will fade leaving not a trace behind but the mere memory of hearing me. And that’s if I am remembered by those who once surrounded me. But still I read fervently, indulging my needs for human contact with the lives of characters who seem to lead a better life than I do.  And although I can feel myself ripping inside from living a nonexistent life I Still keep reading. Devouring every word as if it will be the last.
I say my voice is music because when playing you can indulge in the character that pours out, that grabs your attention but nine times out of ten this music is under appreciated so my vocal chords remain rested, waiting for me to release the sweet notes that often turn as bitter as black licorice.
I guess it doesn’t help that I create a barrier between my voice and the outside world which muffles the sound of my cries for help, and because I believe my voice does not matter when I speak it’s hard for people to believe that I’m that deep. But at the end of the day my spine is still made out of paper so I crumble, fumble and trip over my words as if they mysteriously got tied together like a pair of knotted shoe strings. And again you can’t see that I’m deep so you misinterpret me and think that I’m just another shy girl who keeps her face buried in a book. 
So I remain in the corner, reading yet again “ improving my vocabulary” as I would naturally say  although I practically clench my teeth as I utter these words knowing damn well that reading is my crutch,  something to fall back on when no one wants to catch me because who wants to hold a bunch of pages with runny ink.