Nobody tells you that people who love reading and I mean really love reading are a little bit obsessive about well reading I guess. There are a few things that we do, ok sorry that I do. But maybe some of you have experienced one if not all of the below chronic symptoms:
I realise one chapter into the book that I hate it but feel obligated to finish reading because I’m curious just to see how it ends. Even when the writing is really bad and the plot cheesy.
After realising I hate the book I resign myself to the fact that I am going to finish it and would never dream of reading the last page to see how it ends – that’s cheating and there are very strict rules about this. Flipping to the end does not guarantee I will have a clue what has happened and I might have to back track and prolong my misery even further.
If I have however started reading a book that I love and can not put it down from the first syllable I will torture myself to finish it. Torture will include:
Reading until 1am, looking at the time and saying to myself “If I go sleep now I still have 5 hours of sleep”. This countdown continues until I only have 1 hour of sleep left, I blink and before I can count any sheep my alarm for work goes off.
I will continue reading even when the conditions in my surrounding environment worsens eg. diminishing daylight but will refuse to get up and put on the light. If a family member or friend walks by and (upon finding me squinting in the dark) turns on the light I usually exhibit vampire-like behaviour. My pupils will go into shock but I will also be relieved and amazed at how bright the light is.
When I discover a new writer I literally smile inside and wonder A) Have I been living under a rock all these years and B) What other books does this writer have so that I can devour it all in one sitting.
I have the ability to read very fast by skimming over words I don’t need which includes ‘is’, ‘the’, ‘of’, ‘at’, etc. The faster I can read the more I can read, it’s called greed. I know it becomes a problem when I ignore all calls and don’t answer the door.
I lose track of time, hours sometimes even days it’s almost like blacking out. I lose the ability to function at full capacity. At some point I have to force myself to eat or go to the bathroom. Once I’ve reached this stage it will be too late to save me. All I ask is to please scatter my ashes in the local library.
Finishing a book also never truly satisfies me especially one that I am enjoying. I start becoming anxious when I know the adventure is almost over and know that the only way to overcome that empty, hollow, lost feeling is to find another good book and fast.