My escape.

Day by day,
I'm slowly changing.
I've lost track of who i am,
And i'm not motivated enough to find myself again.
Everyone around me can see the old me dying out,
And a new me coming together.
I used to be a cheerful person,
Someone who's always eager to be in on the fun.
The one who joked around,
Who created happiness.
Now i barely talk,
I barely communicate.
I bury myself in books and drawings,
To distract myself from reality.
When i'm reading it seems like i get sucked into the book,
And all the problems i have disappear.
Slowly i flip through the pages,
Taking in every word,
Every detail,
Imagining what its like.
But then i hear noises,
People voices,
Peoples laughter.
My friends.
They ask me what i'm doing,
They ask what's wrong,
They ask if i'm okay.
I'm not okay,
But i stay silent,
And continue to read...
Sometimes i can't tune them out,
Which results in me moving away from my group.
I sit alone,
Flipping through pages and pages of fiction.
The pages run out,
The chapters all finished,
My novel,
This story,
Ends.
I look down at my book,
How fast i finished it,
How easily i got through it.
And i finally realised,
While reading this book,
I past through almost a whole week without caring about the time or day.
Everything else just faded away,
So did a part of me...
All i remember about the old me was the joy i used to give and feel,
Everything else,
Seems too vague or too far away.
I'm not sure who i am at the moment,
But i know i don't like it.
I don't mind being anti-social,
I don't mind not talking...
I just can't help but wonder,
How much longer it will take,
For my existence to die out.
For everyone to forget me.
For the voices i hear,
The laughter,
The fun,
To become mute silence...