I am reading this book, but this book has no text. Why did I even get this book? It was titled Life by this amazing author and it was said to have 5 stars. But was it just 5 stars starring down the blank pages too? I finally found a pen in my vacant house to write in this book. All I could make are lines. I tried to write my name but all I saw were 5 lines. So I just flipped the page. There it was. Chapter One: Surviving Depression. I was so confused. I thought this was a book about life. Isn't life amazing? Don't we live it to the fullest? Or am I looking in a mirror? A reflection of the truth but when it gets looked back throught the mirror it is the opposite. So is the mirror lying to me? Or am I lying to myself? Am I happy or sad? I can't tell anymore. So I walk home everyday to my distressing house for what? A cup of anxiety, a bowl of depresssion, and a huge plate of knives that are screaming "want to kill yourself yet?" I set my cup, bowl, and plate on the table then I go to sit down. I just sit there and stair down my options. I wait till they get up and run away, or when they start growing mold. None of that happened. I ended up not eating that day or the next one or the next one. So I go back to my book. Cover page Life, next page the 5 lines are still sitting there. I decided to make some more lines. I made 10 more. I don't feel anything. No emotions, and definitly no pain. But I also feel so numb. Everywhere. As I start to close the book, it started bleeding. The book was bleeding. I was definitly going insane. I walk 10 steps back, the book stopped bleeding. There was a lot of blood just sitting there on the book. I walk towards the book. I go to turn the page and see my hand covered in blood. I flipped over my arm and counted 15 scars that were bleeding out. I just stood there stunned at the book. I flipped the page Chapter 2: Life Or Death? I justfound out the the book was now defining my life.