If my life was a book

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If my life was a book

What if my life was really a book

Everything I think I’m doing is really just the

Words someone else is writing down

On a page?

What if the things I believe to be real

Including myself are not

Real beyond the page.

If I’m just a figment of someone’s imagination?

How would that change my view on things?

I’d see it all as part of the adventure, the story

As it unfolds.

Every hardship and tear

A beautiful, hauntingly sad part of

A story with a lesson

A reason for existence.

I mean the best books are ones where

Adventures happen,

I love it when someone goes through

An incredibly emotional and difficult time

Only to have it all work out some way in the end.

Maybe I could take it all less seriously

If I was just a character on a page.

My pain and struggles

Merely a way to move the plot along

For the entertainment of the reader.

What would it be if I was

Really just a reason for a book?

 

An interesting thought – if my life was a book. You see as much as I am a writer, I am also a voracious reader. I love books, have since I was young. One of my favorite places is the library, the quiet, the smell of the books, just being surrounded by so many words – love it! I recently had a thought after finishing a book for my book club, what if my life was just a story in someone’s book, that everything happening was inside someones imagination? That’s where this poem came from.

What would your life look like as a book?

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