I'm stuck in a world.
A world of my own making.
This fantasy world is my biggest nightmare...
but also my biggest dream-come-true.
I call it "Booktopia", as books are the reason why I'm here.
I read so much that I wished.
I wished I could live in the places the authors created.
I wished I could have the lives the characters had.
... I wished so many, too many, things.
To keep myself distracted from my craving, I wrote.
I thought that would satisfy me enough.
I wrote about make-believe worlds.
I wrote about a disease that almost destroyed Earth.
I wrote about a roller coaster that never ended.
I wrote about a girl who's nightmares came true.
I wrote about a man who was trapped inside a maze.
A maze of his own thoughts.
A maze with no entrance and no exit.
Where the only way to get inside was by thinking.
By thinking so much it hurt.
Imagining lands where you could never go.
And fantasizing about people you could never meet.
The man, he called it Booktopia.
The land where nightmares come true.
Where rollercoasters go on forever.
And diseases almost kill everyone and everything.
That was Booktopia.
Land of Horrors.
But also, the Land of Magic.
The land where you could get swept away in an instant.
Where you could live a lifetime of happiness and adventure.
That was his Booktopia.
No, that was my Booktopia.
My Land of Happiness.
The place where I could get swept away in an instant.
My Land of Magic, where dreams come true.
I found mine.
Go find yours.