[ WP ] You 're reading a random book in a library , you realize there 's a chapter about you .

Venturing to the fourth floor of the local university ’ s library had become my escape from a life between college and real world. 
 It was here I studied relentlessly for the LSAT, forgoing my summer days at the lake. The fourth floor was where I had spent the night, unbeknownst to staff, during finals week my second year of school. This sanctuary built of books was where I allowed myself to cry about the lousy boyfriend who said he was at dinner with his mom when, in reality, he was finger banging girls in the shower of a mutual friend ’ s home. A life post-graduation had been liberating but I occasionally found myself longing for the freedom to feel, even if only to trap those memories here on this seldom explored floor. 
 
 I thumb down a row of books and grab the first blue hard back I see. My head knows the expression “ not to judge a book by its cover ”, but my heart gravitates and I let it win this battle. I chose my usual chair; a chair uncomfortable enough to keep me awake but familiar enough to be my own. I immerse myself like a woman in love, engulfed in the words of a man telling stories about a life I don ’ t know. 
 
 But I do know the life described. I knew it nearly at once. 
 _____________________________________________________________________________________ 
 
 “ As a girl, she tried describing to her mother that she felt like a whale, and if not a whale, at least a basset hound, ” the chapter began. 
 The young girl ’ s mom seemed puzzled but not shocked; “ Right now? You ’ re a whale right now? ” 
 “ No, a long time ago I was, ” the five year old stated. “ Do you think Sheba knows I eat animals? ” Sheba, the younger of the family ’ s two dogs had been the primary concern of the five year old since the moment they were introduced…. 
 _____________________________________________________________________________________ 
 
 I am transported back to sitting on the wooden deck my dad spent the summer building, apologizing to the family dog about eating chicken nuggets. Reflecting on the innocence of a girl with no concept of reincarnation but acting on the innate feeling that she had not always been human. The familiarity of the book was quickly replaced with fear; will the author expose me? Will the text detail the broken pieces of my adolescence? Did the author take pity and skip the stories that I've desperately tried to hide from strangers? I have read enough to know the answer. I push the hard bound book deep in to the messenger bag slung across my body; I push those secrets deeper. 

