There’s the stories we tell other people, and then there’s the truth.
Tell me you’re an open book, and I’ll tell you you’re lying.
People rip books to shreds.
Maybe not right away, but eventually the paper rips, the inks fades, and the pages start to fall out.
You don’t want to be a book. You don’t want your cover torn off.
You’re a story, but you’d never be a book.