Our Lives In Books

When I was in school, the only books I shared with people were my text books. Sure I’d love to read, even then. So what, if reading included only Nancy Drew and fantasy fiction? Reading is reading.
But the little I read, at that stage, couldn’t be shared with anyone I knew because no one really liked reading that much. 
My friends thought I was geeky just because I read novels. But blah.

And then a year ago, I got into college and not only did I discover people who liked reading, but those who liked reading the same books I did. 
And it’s just wonderful. Every time I see someone enter the class, they clutch a book in their hand as if they were holding their beating heart. Which, on second account, they must be. And they have this pride when they sneak into their book and read it, instead of listening to the lecturer, that somehow tells me a book, is just not a simple book.

During the past few days I’ve been reading The Mortal Instruments, and I’m almost done with the third book. I’m not saying it’s the best book ever, or whatever, but it got me hooked. And yes, I have used Jace’s dialogues way too often in my conversations, making my friends feel more awkward than anything (Because apparently they don’t find his character funny! 😐 ) But YES! I’m living in this book. 
I imagine being a shadowhunter and having marks all over my body, slaying demons and saving mundanes – even though this is a practical waste of my time and imagination.
But I do.
And I know a lot of you out there do the same thing as well.

When you read a book, it’s like a story told by an old friend and somehow, even in the remotest way, you feel a part it.
You become the story.

I coax myself into believing, this is gonna be the last chapter I read today and I’ll put this book down and study now. 
Does that ever happen?

And I wonder why I can’t abandon the book. Is this novel really a supernova of thought and creativity that drags into its sea of unexpectedness and curiosity? Am I just really attracted to the plot or is this an excuse for not doing my homework.
I’m not going to go deep on this one but, I think all books attract us for one reason:
It makes us immortal.
We live so many lives and in so many worlds, with so many stories evolving around us – that separating ourselves from it is like clipping off your entire toe nail – Painful.

Books are like long distance family members. Some of which you didn’t know existed. But nevertheless, there is love you feel for them. And just like that, when you see a book on the shelf, you mentally wave out to it, and recall in precise seconds the story it offered to you.

They say books are your best friends. To me, on countless occasions, they’ve been the only thing I’ve needed. It’s true, they never ever leave you.

To me, stories are sacred. Some may have profound meaning in them, hidden, to be asked and always to be treasured. Some may be as boring as a brushing your teeth. But even in these little narrations, you can twist something that never existed into being there – not materialized into a form you can touch, necessarily. But into something you feel. Like your heart beating. Like the breath you take. 

Maybe reality is boring. And books, stories, give us this escape from it that we’re happy to live in this world of imagination that people say is not real.
But as one good quote goes, “Everything you imagine is real.”

I shall leave you with this picture.
Have a great day guys! Keep reading! Keep imagining!




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