Books. I miss them. No, the plethora of obscenely heavy,
diagram-ridden, theory-discussing stack of paper that smells like an empty bag
of Cheetos on my desk doesn’t count. I want to read books that I don’t remind
me that I haven’t been to the weight room in a substantial amount of time,
mostly because I can’t lift my left arm over my head. I want to read books
without being aware of how many pages I’ve turned. I want to read something
because there’s a story to be told, not because there’s a quiz on it the next
day. You know, the other day I realized that I don’t remember the last time I
read without a highlighter in hand. I want that sorrowful feeling that comes
with finishing a book, almost akin to parting with a dear friend, rather than
the triumphant walk of survival as I return yet another Cheeto-smelling stack
of cardboard and paper to the university bookstore. I want to feel sad that the
story is over. Yet, here I am in a world of textbooks and systematic reviews, a
place where reading makes you lay gummy bears on every paragraph, because you
have poor time management skills and will only read for snacks. Maybe one day
soon reading won’t increase my calorie intake by 50 million gummy bears. Meanwhile,
the orange ones are the best.
I absolutely known what you mean, I used to read away entire weekends for the right book. Reading was a was of relaxing and going somewhere else for awhile, I miss having that outlet.
ReplyDeleteP.s. I think your former textbook owner must have used Cheetos instead of orange gummy bears as my textbooks have never had a stale cheesy smell.
Yep I totally feel ya'll! I've been trying to read this book for fun since the beginning of the semester, and I have only got to chapter 3 :(
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