I read to escape the inside of my head.
I think it is a great tragedy of the human experience that we can never fully understand what it is to be someone other than ourselves. Reading helps us imagine other minds and experiences, to escape the headspace we live in for a while.
More often than not, the escape is what I’m after. The inside of my mind is chaotic and disorienting. Too long inside here without a break and I start to lose it. I get anxious and I start crying a lot. I start focusing on the minutiae of all my failures, as a student, and as a human.
Then I find the right book. And for a wonderful impossibly short eternity, I don’t have to be me. Everything falls back into perspective when I look through someone else’s eyes. I read for that- for the moments when I’m not myself, I’m someone else. It’s addictive. And I know I’ll never be able to stop. I’ll never want to.