I have wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember. In my deepest dreams and thoughts I hold that dream close. I have mentioned it to a few, but usually hold it too close to even acknowledge it to those who are in my life. You can't fail at something if you never even try.
There is one problem with that way of thinking, it leads to stagnation and never doing anything.
My desire to become a writer is based in my love of reading. I have always loved books, they have been my constant companion in life, there for me when I
feel let down by every person. Books don’t care if I am fat, if I
haven’t showered in days, if I have a giant pimple on my forehead, they don’t
care if I am wallowing in emotions I cannot express. Books have a consistency
that I have always craved, and yet they also allow me to live vicariously, to
step outside my comfort zone. While I am reading a book I can be adventurous, I
can be an extrovert, I can live out my fears safely. I can for a few hours be someone other than me.
The escape that books provide me has gotten me through some really tough times. My parents divorce, high school, my grandma moving in, my grandma slowly dying. Books were with me when I spent a few weeks in college terrified I had breast cancer, and when I struggled to connect with a roommate. Books have gotten me through health scares of family members, lost friendships, and huge life changes that were daunting.
The beauty of what a collection of words grouped together can accomplish is astounding to me. Books have changed me, changed my thinking, and they have connected me to people. I want to create that beauty for another person. No, I want to create that beauty for a lot of people. Thousands and thousands of people.
Yet, I find lately that all of the good possibilities contained in books are outweighed by the negative. Books allow me to escape my reality. I can avoid responsibilities I don't like by reading. I can avoid awkward family moments by reading. I fear books, and my reading of them has become a crutch that is holding me back from real moments I need to experience. The worse part of it, lately I don't even read books that expand who I am. I read books that are easy, that contain no surprises, that are simple. There is still beauty to be found in those books, sure. But I cannot help but think that the beauty is being overshadowed by the weight of everyday life being avoided.
