From my childhood, I loved to read. Books were my safe place. When my home was loud and hard and full of pain, I closed my door, put headphones on my head, and just read. All day. All night. I escaped into my own world.
My imagination was big. My teacher always told me I write beautiful stories. And I believed her. Because when I was writing or reading, I was not in chaos. I was in magic. In adventures. In other lives. Books calmed me down when my home felt like hell.
I cannot imagine a world where I don’t read. Where I don’t take a book in my hands and disappear into imagination. Sometimes I read more than 12 hours. I don’t care if my eyes are tired and want to sleep 😉 Maybe that’s why I need glasses now? I mean… I’m getting older. My eyes are not what they used to be 😉
At home, we always had a lot of books. I read everything. Fantasy, crime, real stories… but fantasy is still my biggest love. I read all the books from Agatha Christie, and I fell in love with Hercule Poirot. I was lucky my mom had so many of her books. Some of them I read more than once. Probably I read almost the whole school library too.
I almost never asked my mom to buy me books, because I could borrow them. But… I was terrible at returning them on time. So yes, I paid those freaking late fees. Probably more than the book was even worth 😊
But I always dreamed about having my own library. A small room. Big windows. A comfortable chair. Huge bookcases full of books. Even when I had a big room, I wanted a small cozy room only for reading. And I promised myself: one day, when I have my own home, I will have this.
Right now, our apartment is too small. My books are everywhere. Some on my small bookcase. Some at my mom’s home. Some in boxes. But I KNOW one day I will have my reading room. I believe this.
Now I have another “problem” ...I keep buying books and I have no space for them. When my brother told me he has a new girlfriend and that I should visit, I went to see them. And the first thing I saw? Her bookcase.
I was in heaven.
We started talking… and talking… and talking. When I saw what kind of books she reads, I told my brother: “Please keep her. I need her!” 😉 She has almost the same taste as me. So many collections I never even heard about! We talked for five hours about books. FIVE hours! And she told me she will always lend me books. Oh wow.
Many of her books are translated into Slovenian, which is easier for me to read. But sometimes the next part is not translated yet. Or you must wait one year. Or they never translate it. And when the story is SO good, how can I wait?
This time she had the first part in Slovenian, but the second part had no translation date. I said: no way I am waiting. I ordered the English version. It came yesterday and I was like wowowowow 😍 When the story is amazing, I will read it in any language. Maybe even German if I must 😉
Do you know how hard it is to find someone with exactly the same taste in books? And she has almost all of them! Almost none of my friends read. They ask me why I buy books when I can read on my phone because it’s cheaper and easier.
NO.
For me, reading means holding the book in my hands. Feeling the pages. Turning them slowly. Smelling the paper. This feeling puts me into another world. Looking at a screen all day would make me crazy. I need hardcovers. I need real books.
And reading is not only love for me. It is also important for my health.
Because of my epilepsy and the pills I take, sometimes I forget things. Sometimes I even forget normal words. And that scares me. But I remind myself: I am not stupid. My brain is just tired. Epilepsy affects the brain, and medicines can slow memory and thinking.
Reading helps me fight back.
When I read, I must focus. I follow the story. I remember names, places, what happened before. This is exercise for my brain. Just like muscles get stronger with training, my brain can get stronger too.
Even 10–15 minutes per day is gentle training. Sometimes I read out loud. It helps even more.
Reading will not cure my epilepsy. But it supports me. It makes me feel stronger. More confident. It helps me slowly bring back my words.
I need to be patient with myself. My brain is doing its best. And every page I read is a small victory.
Do you love to read?
What kind of stories do you love?
Why do you read?
