Consumed by Stories

How I wish I could disappear forever into the pages of a story— A world stitched together from wonder and impossible dreams, where magic still lingers and hope has not yet withered. A world untouched by the cruelty of this one, where sorrow is only ink and broken things can still be rewritten. How cruel it is to close the final page and remember where I truly belong. For in those worlds, I might have been brave, or loved, or simply enough. But here, I remain only a reader, standing at the edge of someone else's life, aching for a place that was never meant for me. So I return, again and again, to stories that will never know my name— because somewhere between their pages, I almost believe I could have been someone.