Reading and books is essentially what I am and what my life is about. Everything else is secondary. What makes up my thoughts, where I find solace, what my dreams are made of are all in the books I have read.
But now I don’t read as much as I used to. The reason is not that I am busy or don’t have time or have better things to do. Its way more fundamental than that. Every book I read becomes in some way a part of me. I think about it. It forces me to reflect. It’s almost like a living organism that morphs my thoughts such that they take a new shape and structure. All this most of the time causes a lot of dissonance and angst. After all I am not living the life I would ideally live; it’s not even close to what best I can be.
So the pile of unread books is growing in my shelf day after day. These days I am terrified of picking up a new book. I who was as impulsive as one can be, not afraid of change, not afraid of doing what I want to do has turned into this terrified, cornered individual finding safe haven in old and experienced much like my reading.
Is this what they call growing up…
1 comment:
bibliophobia, as some might call it. but probably not. more like the unusual numbness which becomes a habit. not so much the coffee, but the emptiness one feels after that is what one gets addicted to.
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