“Reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body.” – Joseph Addison
Inside the Mind of a Bookworm.
I adore books.
It’s no secret to everyone in my grade. a) They’re my friends and know me, b) they’re my enemy and I pretend to actually read a book to avoid eye contact, or c) they don’t know me, but hear from other people that I’m a weird booko.
I dunno. I guess that’s all the possible scenarios.
I’ve read books like Everything Left Unsaid by Jessica Davidson; The White Rabbit Chronicles by Gena Showalter; and I even had a classics phase during which I successfully completed A Portrait of the Artist by a Young Man by James Joyce and the magnificently horrible Great Expectations. Charles Dickens. Of course it had to be you.
I used to surround myself with books and books before my transition into high school.
Before I wrote this, I was constantly thinking about the social lives and state of mind that avid readers experienced. Maybe there’s scientific evidence in a dark corner of the world wide web, but I decided to jump into this pretty much blind. And bravely.
I’m examining my own mind.
In primary school, I had one or two close friends. We were all avid readers and talked about books a lot. There was no event that brought us closer together, but there wasn’t anything that drew us further apart.
We weren’t very social people. At recess it was reading, and at lunch it was reading. Or going to the library if we had finished the book we were reading.
Back then I probably read close to thousands of hours of my own accord, in addition to what we were forced to read from tedious textbooks.
Our brains have specific anatomy.
Where each part is allocated abilities, those abilities have their own bookworm-specific descriptions.
Judgement and memory: deciding whether your book is worth reading and wondering what it is you actually just read.
Heart beat and blood pressure: OMG! Please don’t die! You can’t die! Please! I love you! … Murderer, I hate you.
Vision: that moment when you try to read without your glasses.
More vision: blindness really is a struggle.
Balance and coordination: you fall after a cliff-hanger, and your chair goes with you. Everyone else falls and contorts around you.
Language and reading: the incorrect and uneducated assumption that you have dyslexia when “Great Expectations” is beyond your capabilities.
It’s like Stalker, a TV series cut off after only 20 episodes.
So here we are, inside the mind of a bookworm. It’s ridiculously blinding and happy. It’s bursting with colours and flavours and scars and climaxes of the imagination, beyond comprehension.
A reader’s mind contains the poetry of so many characters. We’re dreaming, but we’re awake. We’re sleeping, but we’re more conscious than ever.
What exhilaration we avid readers feel!