I've always preferred books to real-life. Adventure, fantasy, sci-fi, anything where life becomes more exciting than this grey I see everyday. In contrast the real world seems boring without any clear heroes or villains. That's how I used to think of it. But, before long, I saw the real world in the context of words, and I thought to bring those words to paper.

Words to paper, color to life. I finally found that other part of me. Middle school went by at a blur, but in High School, a peculiar thing happened. My stories had been getting more and more realistic, it seemed, bringing me closer to the real world. Before I knew it, I even had a friend, and I could talk and smile where I didn't before.

That wasn't the peculiar thing though, what I saw was a woman across the room from me, near the window. I call her a woman, not a girl, even though we were both minors in this compulsory education, because there seemed something more sophisticated about her, looking dreamily outside the window. That was when the peculiar thing happened.

She had a pencil in her hand, and, bringing it down, I saw her draw. Even though I couldn't see her face, I knew she had that same feeling in her heart. Art brought calm to her soul, just the same as writing brought calm to mine. We met eyes, for the briefest of times, before we both returned back to our work. Even though we didn't say a word, I felt that, somehow, we had portrayed our feelings more than any conversation could have done.

I don't even know how long this continued, but it felt right. My works moved more towards romance, and I read up on the great works in that genre. But, somehow, they felt empty to me. Perhaps, it was that I felt that real life was different. I, who painted the world onto my pages with words, felt that books fell short of reality.

It was when I came to that realization that I looked over, and saw that she had been drawing something different as well. She wasn't looking at me at all, but I could tell. It was me. Somehow, our minds seemed linked, and she looked up, and smiled. I smiled too. Maybe…just maybe…I should write that smile. It only seemed right, to send my feelings back with words.