Last week, I went on vacation and in that span of time, I didn’t have a chance to read. The vacation had everything I needed: laughter, relaxation, exploration, etc. However, when I returned, I felt an odd numbness in my chest, something in between nostalgia and loneliness.
This feeling struck me as odd considering I had gone on a trip with two of the closest people in my life. We had a lot of fun. There were more memories made than I thought possible. I told myself that perhaps I was longing to be back on vacation. A part of me was, but that wasn’t the biggest problem.
I hadn’t read a book in about two weeks. Yes, me the mighty bookworm that I am. Yes, me the person who swallows books in a day or two like they’re the only food I’ll have that week.
Today, I finally picked up a book and read about one third of it on the commute to work alone. The horrible feeling I had in my chest eased drastically. The sudden relief made me remember that if I don’t read, I go into a state of mind that is much more antsy and fragile than usual. I’ve noticed it happens during the school year as well. If I don’t manage to slip in a personal read alongside the workload that I receive, everything I have to do seems that much harder.
Being on vacation, I didn’t need a book as much as I needed it while being immersed in my daily activities. I didn’t crave an escape from reality that books provide for me, where suddenly I am no longer me, but a character that is facing something. I see pictures in my head of the universe that I believe I am living in. It’s how I’ve managed to get through most of life’s difficulties. Even as a kid, I was known for having this habit. Every Christmas and Birthday, guess what I asked for: books. Sure toys were nice and all, yet I outgrew them in a few years or stopped playing with them after a day. There was no in between.
Not only did books provide me with an escape, but they also gave me inspiration for my own stories. As a kid, it was notebooks filled with plots that held no sense and loopholes that extended beyond my current understanding. As a young adult, it is pages on Microsoft Word that are sparked because of a word, a sentence, a character, a universe. Books open up possibilities for me and not having been able to read I guess, gave me separation anxiety. Yes, a book did this. I’m pretty sure this is a medical condition of some sort. If any book lovers out there understand what I’m going through, feel free to leave a comment. We need to stick together.
With that being said, I’m going to return to keeping my sanity in check by reading some more.
Until next time,