My Real-Life Addiction

I remember getting my first Harry Potter book. I was 8. I'd seen the books displayed in Safeway and I thought they looked rather odd. There was this guy with a scar on his forehead in front of a train and then some pipe-smoking striped pant wearing man on the back. Not exactly my cup of tea. And then it was named Harry Potter, and I immediately decided I would never read the book because the main character was a guy. And that was wrong. I was a bit of a feminist... And then a friend of mine gave me the book for my birthday. I was slightly disappointed. I had already made up my mind I wasn't going to read that book. And besides, I wasn't into reading. I would rather have done crafts for hours then pick up a book. A month later Morgan got Harry Potter and the Philospher's Stone for her birthday. And she loved it. And because I had to be like Morgan, I decided to try and read about this "Harry Potter".

It was a major fail. I still couldn't read very well and my word association was limited. "Professors", in my mind, the jungle trekking Professor Porter from Tarzan with his safari gear. And so I picture these khaki wearing old people running around the streets of England in the dead of night. And that was just weird. Then their were the "cloaks", which I read as "clock". People wearing clocks? That was even weirder. It was just too much for me to handle so I shelved the book and left it there.

Then the first Harry Potter movie came out and Morgan told me to try and read it again. And because I just didn't say no to Morgan, I did. And I was hooked. I quickly devoured the other books in the series and waited with baited breath until the next one was released.

But I wasn't just hooked on Harry Potter. I became obsessed with reading. It was like this whole part of my life that was missing and books were the thing that filled it. My mom says I "inhale books" because I read them like someone is going to destroy them all tomorrow.

And it's true. I feel slightly pathetic when I tell people I just finished reading 3 books in 4 days. It sounds like I have no life. But I can't help it. The moment I get a book in my hands, I have the hardest time putting it down. Every part of me craves to read and read and read until there are no pages left.

But it's the only thing that keeps me somewhat sane. Reading is my outlet. It lets imagination go and no one can tell me I'm crazy or cuckoo or just too old for that kind of thinking. It's my addiction. And no sort of intervention will ever come between me and a novel. 

1 comment:

  1. I love this post!! It brings joy to my heart and a smile to my face! Just opening a book and breathing in the freshness of the paper and then tracing the cover design gives me the key to the world - or worlds - beyond.