Reading Is Hard Novels & Stories

This was going to be a long session. * * * “You're reading too hard,” I say, reaching over to drag the book closer. “Stop trying to memorize every word. Read like you're listening to someone talk to you.” “That sounds easy.” “It’s not. But it’s how people who read a lot remember things. Here—” I flip a page. “Skim the first two paragraphs, then tell me what it’s about in two lines.” She hesitates, then bends over the page. Her lips move silently as she scans. Her brows pinch together, then smooth. A few seconds later, she looks up.

“Thank you, Lydia, you can go,” She said and the help smiled, turned and walked out of her room, Arielle stared at the paper already knowing she would never be able to finish up tonight, it was her fault for playing with it throughout the day without truly reading it, now she was tensed, she never do anything right when she is tensed, she has always been a slow reader and it was hard for her to assimilate things easily which is why she needs more time, she opened the first page and it was just an intro and what she already knew, so she flipped to the next, and the next, she couldn’t understand what she read so she went back to the second page, reading as slowly as she could to understand the

“I can’t understand the tags.” Aron froze. He put down the box and walked over. “What do you mean?” “The letters… they dance around when I look at them,” she said, holding her forehead. “They make my head hurt.” She lowered her gaze, ashamed. Whenever she tried reading, the letters twisted, moved. If she stared too long, they devoured her. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of it. Just count the items and tell me,” Aron said gently. Hilda smiled with gratitude. “Thank you.”

She looked so much like Caleb and Leena—the same youthful innocence forced to carry the crushing weight of adult tragedies. I walked over and knelt down on the rug beside her, completely ignoring the dust that clung to my designer slacks. "Hi, Maya," I said, keeping my voice bright and gentle. "What are you reading with so much focus?" She looked up, her wide, dark eyes blinking in surprise. "Fractions," she sighed, pointing a pencil at a page covered in confusing diagrams. "They're really hard. My teacher says I need to practice more, but my brain feels a little tired these days."

I read the first paragraph. Then read it again. And again. None of it makes sense. I flip to the next page. There are diagrams with atoms and bonds and arrows pointing everywhere. Practice problems with formulas I don't recognize. "Fuck." I try reading the chapter from the beginning. Force myself to focus on every word, every sentence, every explanation. Ten minutes later, I've read three pages and retained absolutely nothing. "I can't do this," I whisper. The textbook sits open in front of me, mocking me with its incomprehensible content.

Their presence makes me lose concentration, hence frustrating the life out of me. Suddenly, the thought of the new student staying back to study as hard as me crept into my head. “I wondered why he is reading so hard though, he doesn’t have any point to prove. It’s not like he can catch up with our scores,” my eyes rolled in disgust as I sat down on my bed to rest a bit before dinner. I realized that I had been feeding on junk throughout the entire day instead of reading, as an unexplainable hunger hit me all of a sudden.

Emily stared at the words in her GED textbook and her head started pounding within moments. Squinting, she forced herself to concentrate, sounding out the words, only to realize that it had taken her over fifteen minutes to go through one page. How was she going to get her GED at this rate when she could scarcely read the study materials? Humiliation made her cheeks scarlet. This was why she studied at home, and this was the one instance where she was glad Josh wasn’t here to see her struggle.

It feels suffocating with him that close. “Cousin, I can’t read with you-” hanging over me. I stop breathing as I find Mykhol even closer. “What?” “It’s- it’s nothing.” I turn back quickly and bury my face in the book. Read, I tell myself. Just read. I force myself to stare at the paper. But it doesn't prove easy. The words are jumping and swimming. And my heart is pounding. It’s too loud. I can’t hear anything except Mykhol’s. It’s almost as fast as mine now. But why?

And if they can't… They pretend. Like me. I zoom the words in, adjusting my glasses on the bridge of my nose as I try to read the whole sentence while trying to push back a looming headache. Then, I lean against my backrest and dig my hand into my scalp, pulling hard. Maybe if I pull tight enough, the words will snap into place and I can force my brain into working like it's supposed to. But nothing happens. Nothing changes. I'm still the same pathetic kid who can't even fucking read right!

Only when Lucas’s breathing had evened did she move closer to the real ground. “I’ve looked at some of the reports,” she said. “They say the reading and the spelling and the remembering are hard. Can you tell me what it feels like inside your head when you’re trying to read a new word or keep a list of instructions?” Lucas stared at his hands. “It gets… full. Like too many things at once. I know the word on Monday. On Tuesday it’s gone. Dad says I just have to try harder. I do try. It still goes away.”