I was taking a shower earlier and was trying to figure out why I like to read. I say that due to the fact that I can’t come up with a good opening paragraph.

Well, I literally finished this book “the secret circle” by – you guessed it – L. J. Smith. I read it last year, but just had to read it again. The raw romance in it and its sequel is just too much (I say that in a good way). Anyway, the point from my mentioning that is this; what’s the point of reading? I know when I read a book I kind of get attached to one or more of the characters and kind of feel like I’m part of their lives. It’s actually quite odd, it’s like you’re a bystander watching something that you have no control over. Like a car crash that you can clearly see is going to happen (imagine this; you’re innocently driving in the right lane. A drunk driver who is supposed to be in the left lane going the opposite way is indeed going the opposite way of you – but in your lane. You have your daughter in the back. The opposite lane that the drunk driver is supposed to be in is packed so you can’t risk someone elses life. The other side of you is a giant rock that you’ll just die from impact if you run into. Basically, the only opinion you have is to let what happens, happen. It’s like that when you’re reading a book). What’s the point of going into someone elses life?

Well, my real life-life is actually pretty bad now. I’m failing math (I’ve always found math pointless. As a writer, why do I give a F*** about -3(x/10)x-(8a) or whatever I’m currently learning about. Meh.), my best friend and I are not talking (we’re in a fight, in case I didn’t imply that hard enough), and well, so much more. I’d love to sit here and throw myself a pity party, but that’s not the point of this paragraph. What is the point of this paragraph? Well, I’m getting to that. It’s fun to escape into someone elses life. I love flat-out romance books – I’m a romantic, but unfortunately it’s morally and socially unacceptable to have a steamy make-out session on the beach with your best friends boyfriend of whom she’s practically married too. Which, happens to have just happening in the book I mentioned earlier. Escaping the worries, doubts, and to be frank – sh** in life can be a relief.

You may have noticed, but I’m self-censoring myself. I’m doing that for a specific reasons. Not because I’m against swearing – I’m totally for it and can tend to do it a bit (of course when authority, parents, or irritable bi**hes are not around). But, there are *certain people* in real life who apparently are now reading my blog…so I just know it would come back to haunt me if I put the actual curse words on here. Haha I feel so stupid typing that. I feel stupid censoring myself on my own blog. I guess I’m pretty stupid in general.

Back to what I was saying, when I’m sad or extremely angry, it also helps to get lost in the inky-depths of a book. When you’re sad, it’s easy to find a clever book that will say something witty to cheer you up. Or maybe one of the characters will get killed dramatically. That symbolically could be the person who angered you in the first place. Just throwing that one out there.. ;)

I think that depending on your emotion at the time, different kinds of books can be better reads than others. i.e.;

Sad – something humorous or witty/clever

Mad – something with high violence (though some would disagree, arguing that it could cause you to do something..you would regret acting off the book) or happy

Happy – any genre you enjoy

The moral of this post? Go out there, find a good book. And by d**n, read it good and slow.

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