Books are my real best friends.

I know exactly what they are thinking.

I know all the chapters of their lives.

Their characters become my family and

I know exactly how long we will be together because it directly corralates to the number of pages it is composed of.

Books are my real best frinds,                                                        

because they have no hands.

They are incapable of picking up the knife to stab me in the back.

They have no feet so its impossible for them to walk away when I need them most.

They have no head so they can not smile and nod and pretend that they care.

They have a plot line so they cant't change their story when they talk to other people.

But books,

they aren't real and

their fiction make me face reality.

So sometinges I think your facke smile was better than you not being here.

But then I remember, you were never truely here.

Head up in the clouds praying I would disapear.

You caused me more tears than watching the Titanic, and

you left my heart in more pieces than any jigzaw puzzle.

You quenched the fire that was burining deep inside my soel.

I gave you 15 years of my life.

Just so you could thow me away.

I ask myself, did you ever really care?

And that is when I remember that books?

They are my real best friends.


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