Why I Read

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It’s no secret that I love books. They are everywhere in my room. At home and in my dorm. I read every book in my middle school library. My bookshelves are double stacked with at least ten piles on the floor surrounding it. There is a trail of books from my front door all the way through the house. I love books.

This is usually where most conversations about this subject end for me. Most people I have met don’t share the same passion. I know of a handful of people that share this passion. And they have some of the most interesting views on life.

I fell in love with books because of where they could take me. Ireland, Paris, New Zealand. This was the era of realistic fiction for me. I wanted to travel to every corner of the globe. To see the Great Pyramid. To surf in California. I wanted to see the world. I still do. Books were my much cheaper plane ticket.

Then, Percy Jackson happened, and I could not stop. I finished the entire series in a week. I didn’t read Harry Potter until I was a Senior in High School.

I love reading because it’s an escape. I can dive into a book and see other people’s lives. I get to battle dragons. I can go to Hogwarts or Middle Earth. I can see Winterfell.

Reading books is a calming activity that makes me want to throw them at a wall when they end on cliffhangers, looking at you, Rick Riordan.

Reading replaced not really having many friends growing up. My friends were Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase.

And I am so thankful for being able to live in a country where women are allowed to read. Because there are still places in the world where women aren’t allowed to read. And they need the escape more than I do.

I am blessed and thankful for my books, and that I have such a strong passion for them.

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