This is a page that holds words. These words don't seem to apply to you, but you are interested anyways. You are confused as to why you are even reading this considering your friend forced you to. Yet you continue to read it. What you don't know is that right now, at this very moment , the book you are reading has feelings for you. This book is not a boy or a girl, nor does understand what a boy or girl is. It really doesn't understand what love is either, but when you picked it up the book felt something. A warm feeling in its pages. And you still continue to read. Well by this point you're just skimming, hoping that when you tell your friend that you finished the book they won't ask too many questions. The book is wishing that you would slow down and read the words that someone decided to print on it. It hopes that you start to get interested in it. But you still hate the story. The plot is so predictable and the characters are so badly written. None of this makes any sense to you. The book you are holding trying so hard to make things interesting. It's changing the words on the next page hoping that you stop and hold it longer in your soft warm hands. But you still hate the book. Now it didn't even keep the same story. First it was about a dragon then it was about a princess and now it's about a man in a big hat! What was the author thinking? You toss the book to the side and begin texting Roger, the boy from science class. The book is so heartbroken- even though it doesn't have a heart- that it erases all the words from its pages knowing that no one would want to pick it up again. At least no one it wanted to pick it up. It doesn't want to be a book anymore. It doesn't want to be anything.
A couple months had passed and you had forgotten about the book that you hated. Your mom had yelled at you to clean your room. As you huffed and stomped into your room, you realize that she is right. You can't even see your floor anymore for god sakes! As you begin to pick up your clothes you find a book. It doesn't look fimiliar so you decide to open it. What you don't know is that it is the book that you had hated so much that you had thrown it aside. The book is so ecstatic that you picked it up that it tries to put words on its pages for you to read. The only problem is that it doesn't remember how. As you flip through the pages you find that the pages are all empty. It's not a book, it's a drawing journal! You have no idea how it got into your room but you are so happy that you found it. Now you can finally draw in something that isn't your science notebook! You sit down on you bed with a pencil and the notebook and begin to draw. The book is confused and frightened. What are you doing? I'm for reading not writing! But as you continue to draw the book feels something new. Pleasure. It loves the feeling of you dragging the pencil across its crisp delicate pages. It could get used to this.
