You get lost a lot.
You sometimes wish that you were part of that world where you’ve met your best friend, your first love, your family, another version of you.
You get to live multiple lives where no other person can understand.
You develop relationships with people whom you will never meet in real life, you sometimes miss them.
Closing each book, nearing the end of a current read, opening a new book, picking up a recommended read, its like putting yourself out there—only, its just you.
And the only thing you hold on to?
Hope that it will be better for the friends you made. For that person you fell in love with. You hope it will never end, but its inevitable.
You see, being a reader, you make yourself used to the feeling of being invisible. Of being an observer. The feeling of being helpless.
You become susceptible to pain. Vulnerable.
And you let the feelings consume you.
Getting lost in the world of books is like travelling with a one way ticket to a world you’ve never heard of—getting lost with nothing but a map that doesn’t tell you where to go, but leads you to where it wants to lead you.
You let yourself become overwhelmed a lot.
You tend to think of the people you’ve met and how they will never find out you exist, but you let them live rent-free inside your head.
They influence you, make an impact, and change your life.
Each book you finish, you become a different version of yourself, distraught, in love, emotional.
Being a bookworm, makes you susceptible to pain.
And you let it.