Everyone knows the experience of a first love. The excitement that comes with falling in love for the first time is something that you’ll always remember. Just as nostalgic is the innocence that comes with it.
For me, my first true love wasn’t a person, or really any sentient being. It was a love I discovered at a very young age. To this day, I don’t remember how or why I fell in love in the first place, but it’s a love I don’t regret having to this day.
In case you were still confused, that love was reading.
This love took me on adventures I never knew possible. I was able to visit worlds and time periods I had never been to before, become introduced to people I never knew I’d like, and experience feelings I hadn’t felt before. There was an anticipation I felt every day toward what I could potentially experience through whatever I was reading. I couldn’t wait to see what would happen and how my love for reading would continue to grow.
This love shaped me into the person I grew up to be. While others my age were being social and developing their own hobbies, I was spending time reading. I expanded my knowledge in ways that I hadn’t thought I could, and made a goal to read at least one book every week. That said, I never liked to draw attention to this love, only reading in class when it was required. It was something I enjoyed with just myself, and the world seemed to recognize that.
It was the greatest love I had felt, until the day it vanished.
I remember the day vividly. One recommendation from a teacher had led me to step more outside of my comfort zone, and trying a different genre than what I was used to. It was a little nerve wracking, but I figured I should go for it. Once I had done so, I quickly remembered why I had only read books in certain genres for years. That one fatal mistake tore me away from reading, and the first love I ever knew had vanished.
As the years went on, I avoided reading as much as I could. I tried to get back into it a number of times and filled my shelves with novels that I swore I would read on my own time. I failed to stick to my own word each and every time though, and only read books in order to pass my English classes. Sometimes I cheated my way through that as well, though, and relied on Spark Notes to get through what I had to read.
Occasionally I would find a book or series I enjoyed. The excitement of getting to read "The Hunger Games" series brought back feelings of nostalgia for me. It didn’t last long enough for me to fall back in love with reading, though. Even after declaring my English major in college, I only finished books on my own time on a very rare occasion. Still, I missed the feeling of getting into a good book and not wanting to put it down, so I made somewhat of a resolution to at least try to fall back in love with reading in 2017.
After months passed without living up to my own word yet again, I found a book that was hard to put down. The feeling of love surged back into my body, and since then, I’ve been trying to read at least a little bit every day. In the several weeks I’ve spent rediscovering reading, I have traveled back in time and lived vicariously through a variety of characters.
Though your first love may not always last, you will never forget how it made you feel, whether that love was toward a person, a song, or even a hobby. Sometimes the feelings can be so strong that you never leave it, and other times you will end up being drawn back to it. Regardless, I am thankful to have reading in my life once again.
