Ever since I was little, I was known as a bookworm.
My family would use it as an apology,
"Really sorry, we can't ever get her head out of a book-she's a bookworm you see!".
My friends would use it to validate my ability,
"Oh, um, well she doesn't play any instruments or dance but she's a real bookworm, you never see her without one!"
So I never knew if it was actually a compliment or a thinly disguised insult.
Regardless, it's a part of me I really, really love because reading has shaped me in a way like no other.
I learnt about first love and heartbreak; about illness and death. The longing and needing of someone or something. The issues with race, gender and sexuality. I was exposed to problems I hadn't yet faced but already I felt like I had.
Some stories in particular have stayed with me and have found their permanent place on my bookshelf but i'm grateful to every book i've ever read. For the children's books that fueled my imagination and kept my curiosity burning. The young adult books that helped me through the haze of teenage hormones and uncertainty. The classic's that made me appreciate the history of the written word and the connectivity of books written hundreds of years ago.
So it should come as no surprise that, of all the words I know in the english language I am yet to find any that adequately capture the sensation of reading words printed on paper. Let alone, a phrase or sentence that affects me beyond repair.
Sometimes it forms as a sharp intake of breath but usually with a swear or piercing laugh. Accompanied with the slow, careful action of almost-but-not-quite closing of the book, a finger or two still softly trapped between the pages as to not lose placement.
A small grin or grimace as the feeling of understanding washes over my skin; eyes bright and alive.
Finally, I feel slightly more complete than before.
