I always talk about how I love to read and I’ve never really explained myself, have I? The following is a list of the reasons why I love to read, what are yours?
I’ve always been the type of person that enjoys a quiet escape from my reality, so reading was a natural choice when I was a kid. I was a bit of a social pariah back then, so books acted as my friends. I read to escape my bullied and uninterested world. I guess that’s why now when I read a book, the outside world becomes nothing but a blur of noises and movement in comparison to the story I’m reading.
I had dreams as a kid that I could be a mermaid, a princess, or a hero, so books were my outlet to live out those dreams. By reading first person novels, I believed myself to be part of the story, never leaving the confines of the pages and words. The same goes for today, but of course, without the mythological dreams.
People may say, “I’ve got nothing to do,” then promptly plop themselves down onto their couches or beds to watch television. What they don’t know is that there is ALWAYS something to do if you’ve got a good book hanging around. Not only does television negatively affect your health, but it makes your brain lazy. Exercise it with a good book! That’s why when someone asks me on a slow day what I’m doing, I answer without a hitch, “I’m reading.”
4. The suspense:
I’m sorry, but there is almost nothing like the feeling of anticipation when reading a good thriller, mystery, or horror novel. When written well, these stories have a way of making it under our skin and making out hearts shudder. For me, I love the feeling of reading a good book, stopping for a moment to breathe and say, “Wow, just…wow.”
Sometimes books can bring out old memories that we cherish. Whenever I read a really good story I think about how the author had affected me as a teenager, or I think about the people that inspired me to be who I am today. Sometimes the feeling is so intense that these books manage to become part of me, and I never really forget about them, even as months and years pass.
My dad died when I was younger and I found that I needed an outlet to not forget, but to recover. He’d encouraged my love of reading and for that I am forever grateful, so in an ironic way when he died, instead of thinking that reading was a sad memory we shared, I thought of it as a gift he gave me before leaving this Earth. The year that he died I became more serious about my writing, though I’d already been writing for many years before that (he died when I was twelve). Sometimes, a good book can distract me from the immediate pains of the world. Loss, love, and helplessness take a ticket in line while reading reigns me in.
I’m not talking about the passion within the text, but instead the passion that a text incites in me. Whether good or bad, I love the feeling of a text that opens my eyes a little bit more to the world of literature. I am one of those readers that tend to be monogamous with a genre… so when I cheat a little bit and try a different genre, my eyes just aren’t enough to absorb the newness. I have to accept the difference in writing style and storytelling through my heart, soul, and mind. Reading for me isn’t just something that my eyes do, but it is something that all the senses of my body strive to understand, accept, and receive.
Why do you guys read?