Your way of escaping was sleeping, or drinking. My way was books.

I stare at the girl in front of me
The one trapped in the mirror
She stares back
She looks just like me
Well; not just like me
She has a worn face
And sad dull eyes
She tries to smile
But it's lifeless, tired
Her complexion is pale
Her lips dry
Tears leak down her face
But the rest of her is still
She wipes away the tears
Only to look at the moisture on her fingers
Its like she didn't even know she was crying
"What is wrong with me?" she asks
"I'm sick of crying" she says
Me too...Me too...
I feel something crawling down my face
Wipe my fingers across my cheeks
They come back wet
I'm crying?
I look back to the girl in front of me
Realization hits
It's me
This girl in the mirror.
She is me

If my life was a book
Would anyone read it?
Would it be happy or sad?
Romance or Action?

If my life were a book
Would it be like a John Green Novel?
Or would it be morphed into Fantasy?
Would it be filled with Mystery like a Nancy Drew volume?
Or filled with Drama?
I think i would be a trilogy; possibly more,
Because one book won't even cover a day's worth of thoughts.

If my life were a book
Would it be made of experiences and feelings?
Contemplating the small stuff
and finding the beauty in everything?
Would it be like Narnia?
Everything metaphorical
Filled with personification and anthropomorphism.

If my life were a book
Would my inner demons become monsters or a curse?
Would my love interest be a charming prince?
A rouge outlaw? Or someone i would least expect?

If my life were a book
I can only hope it would be a great adventure.
One with foreign lands and exotic animals.
One that defies gravity
And goes against everything we can imagine

If my life were a book, if one were to read it,
They would learn more about me in a hundred pieces of paper
Then they could in a day.

If my life were a book
One could possibly know me better then i know myself
Because we often reveal more than we intend to without ever knowing it ourselves.