I jolt backwards out of my chair, and the world spirals around me. I can feel it. It's the truth. I catch a glimpse of the sky, and I see letters, as if this new realization has brought clarity, the right way to see the world. I look at my arms and legs and it's letters and letters and everything is letters. I know that then, you must be my reader, and you are watching my life and knowing my thoughts from the words. I look at the letters, covering everything, but they are a language I do not know. I spin in circles. Does that make me... Imaginary? No, it doesn't. You are real to me, and your world is not fake. I hear, soothing me inside my head. It's nearly morning. What do I tell mom? I need my notebook. But if I told her about this she'd think I was crazy. I curl up in a ball, slowly breathing, trying to calm myself. The book I'm in... It must be about me then, since I'm the only one who seems to have a someone reading their thoughts. I feel a small jolt of happiness. This means I get you to myself. Why do I feel this way? Do I... Do I... Like you. Another realization hits me... This could mean at the end of the book... The world ends. Oh my gosh. I feel you, hugging me, saying I can always come back to read you, and I feel warm again. I must like you. I have no other way to explain it. My chest aches, wishing to see you not inside my head in a dream, but really, truly, and in person. I rub the little scar on my chin I got from falling as a little kid. I wonder why, why is this my life, why do I have to be trapped here, why is the world as I know it now have to made up of words. I can't cry, all I can do is lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling. I feel you next to me, grasping my hand, and I feel a small sense of peace, knowing at least you won't leave me.
