Breaking Down the Paper Walls

She is a lonely girl. For years and years she has had no one to confide to, no one to keep her secrets. So she writes. The words become her saviour. Like a shining knight saving her from the darkness. There is something special with words, she decides. Something special about the way the blue ink fills the white untouched pages in her book with purple exterior. There is something special about it. Something magical. She can not really describe the way she feels about it because it is hard to put her emotions in words. For so long she has had no one to talk to.
Her greatest fear is that one day the words will disappear. That she one day will not have spoken with anyone for so long that all her words will be gone. So she reads. She uses an old, tarnished dictionary that fills her with warmth every time she sees it. It is blue. Therefore blue, a dark navy blue, has become her favourite colour. On her way to school she listened. She likes to ride the subway because so many words live there. Angry words, happy words. Sad words. Words disgracing. All of them. She loves them all.
She knows that words are not kind. She knows that they can be cruel, mean. Meant to hurt. Still, they are her best friend. The way she uses them make them better. She is careful, thinks. She does not mean to cause pain. All she want… all she want is solely a dream.

They help her. Together with her words and her writing she dwells in wonderful happy countries, idyllic pictures that never appear in her real conscious life, on magical islands where the sun will never set. Where the darkness will never catch her. The darkness is her enemy. It keeps her from what she loves the most and is hard, relentless. She does not understand when she hears someone describe it softly, with gentle voice. The darkness is pain.

She builds herself walls of words, walls of ink and paper. It is the only thing that keeps her from the hurting outer world. The rest of the world does not understand. It snorts at her self-made castle with words of their own.

One day as she leaves the tube carriage she bumps in to a person. She kneels to pick her notebook up but as she does that he does the same. The book falls again and the words spread for the wind. She stares at them. At the words. The young man captures as many words as he can, as many fully written pages as plausible. He looks at her apologetically when a few of them fall down on the rail. Then he opens his mouth and out comes the words. Words she has longed for, for so long. It is a simple apology. An introduction. And in her eyed, in her word-filled world he creates a miracle. His words achieves an amazing thing. Slowly, as the days passed by, the words continues coming from him. Simple words in easy sentences. But they grow.
All things in the needs energy. Nothing ever disappears. And as the warm words reach Linn, because that is her name, the darkness goes away. It transforms into something else. Into light. And the walls she has built around her, the scared words, go away.

The words crumble down around her.