Ever since I was child, books have been my most loyal companions. They, unlike many other friends in the past, have remained by my side through thick and thin. They have been there for me at my worst and at my best. I have lived vicariously through the lives of hundreds of fictional characters and their stories, relishing in the wonder of it all.
These characters—their journeys, their hopes, their most fervent desires—are instilled into my own very heart, and collectively form a single person: That person is myself. I am those characters (both heroins and villains). I am every story I have ever read. I am those fantastical kingdoms, villages, worlds.
There is nothing quite like reading a novel. They are a gift from the minds of some of the most brilliant human beings on this earth. They are an escape route from the mundanity of reality. They provide relief, consolation, truth, and insight.
My passion for books—for the written word—is unlike anything I have felt before. I know indeed, that if it were not for books, I would not be who I am now. Literature is something that I crave incessantly; I can never get enough of it, nor do I think I ever will. It is, one of the greatest innovations that ever occurred to mankind. It has transformed me, and I will forever be thankful.
