Okay, maybe it’s not actually the words, but what’s wrong with a little switch to make then words work for my life (because I’m definitely not ugly). Pride is something we all could get a little better at. No, not everyone has to attend a Pride Fest, but we should all have a little more pride in ourselves. The problem with people and pride could stem from society pressuring everyone to act with forced humility. Or, it could be the fact that some terrible teachers are too busy tearing students down instead of raising it up. I will most likely expand upon these ideas in a future post.
Now, let’s get onto the point. Why am I proud of being bookish?
Books have always made me happy.I remember fifth grade as being the height of my young love for books. In that year, I opened up my word to the potential of magic by reading the Harry Potter series. I also cried for the first time while reading a book while I read Little Women and (spoiler alert) Beth died. Sixth grade was the end of the golden era for me. I started worrying about what other people thought of me. I wanted to be popular (imagine that in a shrill, mocking tone). I abandoned my love to go down the cold path of popularity.
Yeah, I’m not proud of all that I’ve done. But I DO have pride in loving books. As much as I want to proclaim myself as intellectually superior to those who do not read, I need to exercise some forced humility and not let myself. I’m not here to insult people. I love books not because of what they make me in the eyes of others, but rather what books can do to me. They can draw me into another world, and most importantly, they make me happy.
Books have a supernatural power. They posses me, take me into their imagined world where everything makes sense. Though there is chaos in books, it’s organized chaos. Books have a plot, a steady beginning and end, while life is nothing but a blob of events. In my world of perfect sense, I can experience more interesting of a life than I could ever dream of living. I feel true pain when I read about someone suffering, I experience the thrill of taking risks. Through others’ experiences I learn so much.
I could list a million more reasons why I love books, but I’ll just summarize it and say they make me happy. No more am I going to push away who I am- bookish- because I’m afraid of not being accepted by others. Recently, I’ve been made fun of for reading. I laugh, and suppress the initial thoughts of intellectual superiority because everyone is intitked to their own opinion. The laugh becomes more light-hearted, and I giggle because I’m happy about my own progress. Someone may be putting me down but I’m staying strong.
In the comments below: fill in the sentence “I’m _________ and I’m proud!” for yourself. 🙂