I just put down the first book I read in ages.
As a child, I did nothing but reading, and more reading.
In my late teens, I thought, I resented/quit reading because school forced me to (read certain books).
The more I am coming to terms with stuff inside of me, the more I realise I was the one withholding myself, depriving myself, limiting myself… That happened with reading too.
On purpose, I brought “easy” books, that I could “mindlessly” read (I’m using quotes here because no books are ever easy, and reading is never mindless), while trying to pick up reading again during this “me time” vacation.
I was afraid to bring books I actually know I’ll love, or really love the topic of, in case I couldn’t find the peace of mind to pick it up, in apprehension, fearing I’d resent it all…
Stupid overthinking and self-depriving mind… Sometimes I hate you, but I respect you too, for I realise you were what got me through the hardest decades of my life…
