It’s Called Reading

When I went to college last fall I packed a box of books with the intention of reading them all. Obviously, I was a freshman and completely clueless. Those books sat on my desk the whole school year without being touched, just collecting dust, teasing me as I hunched over my history homework or dressed at six in the morning to run to lacrosse practice.

By the time summer came I was itching to open up a good book and devour it in a day. Which is exactly what I did the minute finals were over.

Recently I started the Divergent Series, and I am completely obsessed with every part of it. I haven’t read The Hunger Games Trilogy (one of my favorite series) in so long and this series is a nice reminder of my love for dystopian novels. I am actually really upset it has taken me so long to finally read it. Anyways, I went to my best friend’s house the other day after getting halfway through Insurgent and I couldn’t stop thinking about the book. And being the bookworm that I am, I love to discuss books with anyone who will listen—or will at least pretend to listen. So I was telling my friend and her sister and her mom about how incredible I think the books and author are, and that I finished the first book in two days, although I would have finished it in one if I didn’t have to work.

They were stunned.

My friend’s sister told me it took her about a month of reading Divergent on and off to finish it; and her mom said, “So you read it for like six hours straight?” in an astonished voice.

I have grown up in a family of readers and writers, so it is extremely strange to me when people act surprised by my love of reading. Although I am fully aware that everyone is different and will not value everything I do, it still bugs me to hear people so unenthusiastic about reading. My friend’s mom looked at me like I had three pairs of eyes, because I read for a few hours. I wish I had said, “So? That’s the point— that’s what you’re supposed to do when you read.” I mean, people watch TV for six hours straight and stuff their faces with food. At least when I read a book I am exercising my mind, instead of mindlessly sitting in front of a screen and having garbage fed into my brain.

I just don’t get it—reading is fun, more people should do it. It’s like a movie, but better because it’s in your head and although you are not necessarily creating these characters and worlds, it feels like you are. You get to imagine what the characters look like and where they live, and for those few hours you read that book nothing else seems to exist and you’re introduced to another world. And although that world may be in more turmoil than the one you currently live in, it feels better and in turn you feel better.

Every book is like a gift…and it’s remarkable!

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