Books
I used to have many books, before I got rid of everything I owned. Now there is a book shelf in my room full of books, most of which belong to somebody else (most of my friends are bibliophiles, including my best friend, by whom many of these are lent). The books are good books, ones that should be read. When I look at the books I feel small, because there is so much I have not read yet. And for every single book on the shelf, there are probably at least a dozen, maybe twenty, that also need reading by me (sometime which feels more immediate than it ought). I don't read very fast, ever since the car accident, but at least it's not agony. (I have caught up with myself that much). And now that some of that medication is clearing out of my head, I can see and process and focus with a little depth, which means I can read. I am grateful to be able to read. In some of the times when I've been at a loss for anything else, there has been reading. Books are friends. Smart friends. Always there. Always giving. Someday I will go to school and read someone else's idea of what needs reading. I will do this so that I can make my way in the world, maybe fill in some wide gaping holes that make it so that I don't get my friends' academic jokes (the downside of being auto-didactic, and changing school districts too many times as a kid). Until then, I will enjoy my own syllabus. There is so much. So much. It's too bad one can't eat books, so that their contents cling to the brain like fat does the body. They are so tasty. Mmmm, books. *Nom nom nom nom*