I used to be a bookworm. I always carried a new novel with me wherever I went regardless of the occasion. I would hasten to my next class during passing periods, with the sole ambition of stealing a few minutes within the pages of a book before the teacher began his/her lesson. My dearest friends lived within the bindings of those literary texts. I looked to them for wisdom, consolation, understanding, joy, laughter, empathy, sass, and at times shared sorrow.
I am sad to confess that my fervor for reading has dissipated. My list of current reads is quite short and rather dismal. I have recently felt a longing for my old habits. Books must take precedence in my life once again. I am more myself within the confines of a good story than a boisterous crowd of people. It's where I find consistent and dependable joy.
Currently reading: Little Women (for the first time... shockingly)
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