The True Love of My Life

It’s impossible for me to fully express just how much books have changed me as a person. I love reading. It is one of my deepest passions, and it never fails to make me question all that I know and hold dear in life.

No matter what question plagues my mind, there is a person out there who has thought extensively about this topic. It takes years of thought and research to produce a book, years of questioning, wondering the best way to express an idea so clearly that others will understand.

My brain loves a mental challenge. Or maybe it hates to be bored. I suppose both could be true concurrently. When I feel lonely, the brilliant mind of a writer speaks to me. It doesn’t matter if they were alive thousands of years ago or just published their writing today. They could be on the other side of the world or live in the same city as me. None of it matters. Their words can make such a lasting and profound impact on my mind that as I read their words, my life is changed forever.

It’s incredible that a line of words, written in a very specific way, can be life shattering. Language, our most widely used method of communication, is turned into a work of art. The ideas passed down throughout the course of many thousands of years have shaped our societies so deeply that the impact seems almost insignificant.

The books I’ve read in my life have shaped my very being. I don’t even know who I would be at this moment without the books I’ve read. They’ve taught me lessons about life that I would not have been able to learn from any sort of formal education system. They have revealed to me how our society functions. I saw myself reflected in their words. I started to understand the human condition, what it means to be alive and what it means to suffer. They have shown me that no matter how much I know, my knowledge will never be complete.

Every book I read opens another door, but the doors are endless. I won’t ever run out of ideas to explore. My mind will forever be curious about the topics the book didn’t delve deeply enough into. My heart aches for understanding.

The characters I read about enter my life for a short period of time. They share their thoughts and worries with me. It doesn’t matter if it’s merely a work of fiction because these thoughts are truly just a reflection of the author’s mind. They’ve opened themselves up to whoever cares to know their truth. They allow others to understand who they are as deeply and vulnerably as possible.

When I was lonely as a child, I turned to books as an escape. Perhaps I still use them as an escape from my own reality. But, escape or not, they’ve given me comfort when I felt most alone. What started as a way to run away from the problems around me has turned into a lifelong passion, a source of knowledge, and a deeper understanding of what life is on the most fundamental of levels.