Thursday, November 18, 2010

Picture My Words.

Why do I read books?

I read because everything around me just seems too...ordinary? Usual? Gray maybe? Well, I haven't quite found the words yet. Hopefully by the end of all this I will.

My quiet place is a bookstore. Everywhere else I feel rushed and forgotten. Not knowing where to go or what to do. The bookstore is my safe haven. When I feel that I really can't take it anymore, that I can't face anything anymore, I go there and I am welcomed with open arms. There are no sides to take. No problems to solve. No pressure to answer something or someone. No talking. That's the best part for me. I can just go on inside, smile at any passing face, sit in that one corner I always sit in, take out my red mechanical pencil and my green notebook, take out the latest book I'm reading and that's that. I'm all set. I'm severely happy. Content even. Surrounded by all those books. A wall of books shielding me from every or any kind of danger. Human or none human. When I'm sitting there, I don't disappear. But instead, I blend, And my world disappears around me. There is no more "outside". It's just me in the empty space and the millions of different worlds around me. And the very thought of that soothes me down to the bone. My mind clears of all darkness and troubles. Of all pain and sorrow. I'm not in my world anymore. I'm not even me anymore. I'm something else. Something new. I've started over completely. I'm in the book I'm reading. And then I realize, I was never really from Earth to begin with.

And then I feel what the characters feel. I see what they see. I taste what they taste.

I fell in love with the impossible.

I kept deep, dark and angry secrets.

I kicked ass and frikking cried more than I should have.

I survived against the odds.

And I got a taste of heaven on earth.

All because of books. I know a lot of people will think that it's nothing. They're just books after all. That I'm so stupid for feeling all that because it's not real and It didn't happen and never will. Okay, sure.

I'm not saying those people are right. And I'm not saying I even have to listen to them. Different things make different people happy. Leaving my world for a while makes me happy. And as long as I'm happy, I don't care. Besides, I know when I need to come back.

So there you have it. Why do I read books? I read because it makes me happy. I read for sanctuary. But mostly...
I read to escape.

So go ahead. Call me loser or weird or argue with me if it makes you happy. Why should I care?

I'm not from Earth remember? 8)

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