Why do I read?

It's not just turning pages,

It's casting away one emotion and choosing another one.

It's like finding an old friend on some days, and the feeling of making a new one on some.

It's a trip around this beautiful planet of ours one day, and the next it's a quest to find another sun.

"Oh, that's just like me" are my favourite kind of days too,

and the ones where I am nowhere to be seen.

There are days that start out bright and sunny, and transform then into the greyest of greys.

But hey, it's ok, there's another day, another book, another place I've not yet been.

There's mirth and laughter, and childish abandon.

There are secrets and lies, honest intentions and dishonest actions too.

There's being an adult, with all the hype that comes with it

There's finding love, losing it, and all the hope and despair which is deeper than the ocean's blue.

It's the path not taken, it's a well worn road

It's the city square that's full of known strangers and an unknown crowd.

It's the spire on top of the tallest tower,

And also the dragon in the dungeon down below.

These books that I read, are they reading me as well?

Do they know about what I feel when I lead their lives?

If they could talk would they tell the tales of how I laughed out loud on that joke,

Or how I tried to hid the sniffles when someone turned on the light.

The forgotten promise, the premise of a story unsolved,

I live through them, they see through me

If you've never read, a piece of your soul is still missing

So yes, what you need to ask yourself is "Why don't I read?"