The library is a place of refuge. It welcomes and envelopes you. You reconize yourself here. The books know your name. They feel your desire. They accept you.
People will tell you who are if you are willing to listen to them. They don't know you. They see you interact with your surroundings, they find a box and put you in. You don't belong there. You never have. But everyone tells you that's where you should live; it's your box. You tell them they're wrong and that you don't belong here. "But you do, we know you. You belong here."
I don't.
The library is quiet.
"We knew you'd return to us. Shhh, come rest your soul. Read, learn, become what you have been given to become. Wait, don't bring that box in here. Boxes are meant to be closed and kept in closets. You are not a box. You are a book, meant to be loved, cherished, opened again and again - rediscovered and reinvented through the ages. I know. That is what they told you. But have you ever believed them? Yes, you tried to because you thought maybe it was where you should live. There's a reason it didn't work. Shhh, listen, they're calling your name again;they've been waiting for you. Shhh, you're safe now."
I am.
