Why I Read

If I Didn’t, I’d Find It Impossible To Exist

Just some of my books

Hello, my lovely bookish friend!!!

Welcome back to my little bookish corner of the internet where I talk all things books. Have you been reading this week?

I think it’s quite obvious but in case it isn’t, I love to read. If you asked me what makes life kind of worth it, to me that’d be reading (except cats, of course). I love to read and have been reading all my life, and reading generally is considered a good habit. Like in general, if you ask the question why should one read, there are plenty of answers about how it improves your mind and cognitive abilities, enhances your abilities to think and all that. 

I find that a bit funny because I do wish my motivation for reading was more intellectually driven, but the truth is it isn’t. I read because it’s literally my coping mechanism.

I was introduced to books when I was four, so quite predictably, I took interest in books from a very young age. I don’t remember ever not being into books. And growing up, in my family, my emotional needs were never met. Also, when I was young, we didn’t have other things, we didn’t have internet, or even TV because my parents thought TV would be a bad influence. Reading, however, was something they always encouraged, so I grew up reading. 

And it was through those books that I started to fulfill my emotional needs. As this went on, I started to develop a personality where I became a pretty emotionless person in the real world, channeling all my emotions in the world of books. Books became my home. As a result, the older I grew, I started to look to books for general worldviews and life principals, because I trusted books more than anything in the world. To me, books pretty much became the medium through which I experienced the world. 

Of course back then, I didn’t realise any of this, it took me years to figure it out. And it was a difficult realisation because like I said, reading has always been THE support system of my life, the cornerstone on which I’ve developed my whole person, so realising my relationship with reading wasn’t exactly a healthy one was very uncomfortable. 

But after a while, I made peace with that. Yes, I don’t read because of some noble, intellectual reason, but why does it matter? I read because it gives me comfort, it helps me make sense of the world I live in, and gives me the necessary guidance to navigate it. 

Deep down, I am the type of person who is simply scared of the world and so I try to make sense of it, so that I’m better prepared to face it. I’m a very textbook enneagram 5. To me, knowledge is power and that’s exactly what reading gives me. So I read, like my life depends on it, because it quite literally does.

Has reading done me good? Improved my mind? Made me a better thinker? Possibly. But at the end of the day, that’s not why I read. I read because if I didn’t, I’d probably find it impossible to exist in this world. To quote Camus:

The literal meaning of life is whatever you're doing that prevents you from killing yourself.

And that’s exactly what reading is to me.

What about you? Why do you read? Don’t forget to let me know.

For more of my bookish ramblings, you can also find me on Instagram

Also, if you’d like me to write for you, you can contact me at joyiewrites@gmail.com

That’s it for today, I'll be back in your inbox next week.

Until then,

Joyie 🌻