Page 4 - Fallen Thoughts

What in my life is calling me?

Words.

I consume words like I consume oxygen. I value words more than I do

myself.

Novels and poems and the ingredients list on the box of cereal I am eating in

the middle of the day. All the words I can get my hands on, I greedily grab and

hold onto.

I devour the words like I’m starving. And when I’m full, I spit the words

back up. I create my own story with the words that I love so much.

I build a safe house for myself in these words. There are walls around me

built out of my favourite stories.

Stories of hope, that tell me I’m not broken, that I’m human and lovely and

one of a kind.

Books that grow to have arms and legs and a face that vaguely resembles an

old friend’s.

My words embrace me and form a shield to cover my most vulnerable areas

and let me just be.