I am an open book, but you can't read me. People open a book and only look at the book, ignorant of what is beneath. They flip through the pages and laugh while forgetting about my very existence. I am always beneath the books they read. I listen to everything, laughter, crude jokes, frustrations, peace, and so on, I feel guilty for not being able to comfort them. I become one with others on the bookshelves, hoping to become independent again. When the book is picked up I join a hands shadow, so can I truly say I'm independent if I'm always with something? While it is not a great life it's not so bad either. It is peaceful. I am satisfied.