How I'd Gotten Over With Novels
As far as I could remember, I posted something about how I started getting interested in reading novels. It was more of a peer pressure than a guilty pleasure, I must say. Another pressure was to hoist my reading skill, because I've felt the lack of it. Somehow, I was, but it isn't my thing. I thought, maybe I shouldn't do something that doesn't interest me that much. Ergo, I'm the worst person to talk to if you happen to be a bookworm; or anything at all, seriously.
I'm not just the type of person who could describe one thing flowery. I guess, pictures exist as they depict a thousand words. I'm also not the type who exaggerates a particular interest, even if it's my favorite. If I like a certain thing, I just like it, which will eventually become my favorite, and that's all. That is why, dating in America isn't for me, because tv shows have always projected this scene in which a guy meets a girl randomly, then asks questions like what music you listen to, who your favorite artist is, or perhaps if you've attended into one of his or her concerts and whatnot.
So, if I happen to read a novel (which happens only once in a blue moon) that sells like hotcakes to teenage girls, you'd probably have the stodgiest conversation ever with me. You'll probably be elated, while I'll only stare at you, jaded, and flummoxed whether I got to read that part or not. Words brush up like leaves that are slowly swept by the wind. Sometimes, I can't catch them up, because the wind itself is uncontrollable. I tried to, but hey, leaves are-leaves! Just let those do what they want. Besides, it's gonna linger into your imagination forever, wondering what really happened.
I usually jump one chapter to another, without getting the whole gist. I'd sometimes be lucky enough to cut all the chase and get to the climax. With it, I could patch the snippets up, so I won't spend time going back to where I'd gotten lost. Seriously, it's merely because those parts don't amuse me. The ends do, actually; at last, I get to take a hiatus from using my small brain in ciphering everything out.
Anyhow, I regret myself that I didn't indulge into this when I had ample time. My life wouldn't drown in monotony, but rather in rainbows and butterflies. I would probably always have a healthy conversation and get as many friends as I could, since an anhedonic person is rare to find.
I'm getting there, just a little more. I'm not pushing myself to like it. Besides, it isn't the right time.
I'm not just the type of person who could describe one thing flowery. I guess, pictures exist as they depict a thousand words. I'm also not the type who exaggerates a particular interest, even if it's my favorite. If I like a certain thing, I just like it, which will eventually become my favorite, and that's all. That is why, dating in America isn't for me, because tv shows have always projected this scene in which a guy meets a girl randomly, then asks questions like what music you listen to, who your favorite artist is, or perhaps if you've attended into one of his or her concerts and whatnot.
So, if I happen to read a novel (which happens only once in a blue moon) that sells like hotcakes to teenage girls, you'd probably have the stodgiest conversation ever with me. You'll probably be elated, while I'll only stare at you, jaded, and flummoxed whether I got to read that part or not. Words brush up like leaves that are slowly swept by the wind. Sometimes, I can't catch them up, because the wind itself is uncontrollable. I tried to, but hey, leaves are-leaves! Just let those do what they want. Besides, it's gonna linger into your imagination forever, wondering what really happened.
I usually jump one chapter to another, without getting the whole gist. I'd sometimes be lucky enough to cut all the chase and get to the climax. With it, I could patch the snippets up, so I won't spend time going back to where I'd gotten lost. Seriously, it's merely because those parts don't amuse me. The ends do, actually; at last, I get to take a hiatus from using my small brain in ciphering everything out.
Anyhow, I regret myself that I didn't indulge into this when I had ample time. My life wouldn't drown in monotony, but rather in rainbows and butterflies. I would probably always have a healthy conversation and get as many friends as I could, since an anhedonic person is rare to find.
I'm getting there, just a little more. I'm not pushing myself to like it. Besides, it isn't the right time.