On the crisp corners of the first page, fingers
Fiddle
Flipping…
Flipping…
Flipping…
Hooked
Each character, each line
Absorbed
In the world made up by human mind
Heart beating, mind racing
As each page is turned

Hypnotized
Mesmerized
By the beauty of each and every word
Printed on paper as rough as skin
Like paint splattered on an empty canvas
Creating a whole different world, where
“Every single dream is achieved,
If you believe”

Happiness
Is just one step away
One small puddle to hop over, or
One whole ocean to cross
Just one little stretch away
From holding it in between your very palms
And tucking it in the pocket of your jeans

You smile
Everything went perfectly
The main character achieved her goal
With just a small puddle to hop over

With a flutter in your chest, you close the book
Sitting back, sighing
“And they all lived happily ever after”
The end

But no, it isn’t
In fact, it’s nowhere near it

See, books, stories, movies, they are stamps
Stamps dipped in thick, dark blue ink
Pressed on the pages of our hearts
Permanently marked

See, there is influence
In each story, each plot
Every one of them has power
Yes, even the bad ones

Characters
Looked at as role models
Each one of them has power
Yes, even the bad ones

People read to escape reality
To run away from the truth of the life they live
From the problems, the heartache
When that shouldn’t be the case

Because a book is not a ship
That will keep you floating above the ocean
It is not a ship
That will bring you to that beautiful piece of land you see on the horizon
No, it is not a ship
That will keep you from ever caressing the waves,
From feeling the salt water in between your very fingers
Because whether you like it or not
You belong underwater

Daughter,
You are a fish,
A whale,
A shark,
A squid,
A shrimp
You are destined to swim
To glide in the water,
To breathe in the scent of the beautiful life that you possess
Stepping on the corals and opening your wide eyes
Even if it means getting your feet scratched and having your eyes sting red
Because that’s the beauty of life itself
It’s far from perfect
But we have a God who hits perfect and amazing with a bulls eye

Fiction is like a spider’s web
Four corners attached ever so slightly to life itself
And people hang on to those thin lines
Hoping to be part of the world the web has

Inching farther and farther away from
The grease of that kitchen counter
Dear, I’m sorry, but
You are not a spider

Books, stories, movies
Have set high standards and expectations
For hatred, for war, for love
People look for their Augustus Waters
Hoping that he’ll put cigarettes in between his teeth
And hope he’ll say that it’s just a metaphor

People read and watch and say,
“I want a love exactly like theirs”
And they search for someone exactly like the ‘one in the movie’
Hopelessly coming up empty

Darling,
Don’t try to write your own love story
Based on those that are in stories
Because your love story has already been written
By the greatest writer of all time
And will be even greater
Than Hazel and Gus, Tris and Four,
Katniss and Peeta, Kenji and Athena,

Fiction is not supposed to be an escape from reality
You are not supposed to be hanging on that web
Wishing for a life better than what you have now
Fiction
Is not a new house you look at, in hopes that you’ll live there someday
No, Fiction
Is a pair of glasses that make you see the beauty of your life even clearer