it's the kind of fatigue that you know after reading to escape because leaving now is almost a betrayal. characters come and characters go but none so boldly as the ones you invest yourself in the most. read a page. read a line. read a mind. now you're him now you're her now you're them and you can't escape yourself even if you close the covers if only for a night. it seeps in it grows it flows it seems just right but to let it go now isn't. it's not/ you can't do that. they have faces and they haves spaces and they have dreams of their own. maybe in words maybe in pages maybe in a blank space. like a canvass that's empty but all the while full. did you read it did you think it did you live it did you want it did you know it did you dream it did you live it did you be it. and if the answer is no ten you haven't read deep enough you haven't read far enough you haven't read between the lines. you didn't do it you didn't dream it you didn't breathe it. but now you can see it feel it taste it know it show it now you want it.
turn the page.