Reasons For Reading Novels & Stories

It makes you feel like you belong. This is also why I love reading—it keeps me engaged, gives my mind something to do, and, honestly, it prevents boredom from creeping in. Then, there’s a knock on the door. I feel a little caught off guard, so I lean over to grab my glass of wine again, thinking it’ll make me seem like a businesswoman—like I’ve got everything together. But in my haste to put it back on the coffee table, I almost spill it all over my sleepwear. My legs, still crossed, scramble to readjust.

I do it because I am committed, and love my readers here so much. I hope you understand the point where I am coming from. Have a pleasant read ahead. Thanks for reading.

Because sometimes, you don’t read stories for the truth. Sometimes, you read them for the hope that it might be different this time. Even in prison. Even here. Even for us.

The truth was too raw and revealing, which is why I had stopped. "I'll give it a shot," I whispered softly, with resolute determination. "Good." Livia wrote on her paper and then glanced at me once more. “People's lack of interest in reading is due to their desire for flawlessness." Their motivation for reading is to prevent isolation. The warmth she expressed was as savagely strong as the words she spoke. Maybe she was right. Writing down my fears could potentially make someone feel understood. Once more, I drank coffee at a leisurely pace, experiencing the experience in varying ways.

And, of course, he is there, always engrossed in his reading. For anyone reading this, before you jump to any conclusions, let me explain. He is not the reason why I come to the library. I am here because I want peace of mind and to read, but it seems my reason for coming here has changed. All I want now is to see him.

I turned to her with a knowing smile, “We could get some freaky time after.” She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “How about we stay back in school and read?” My smile immediately disappeared. I looked at her like she’d just said we should set the basketball court on fire. “Why do you like reading so much?” I asked, completely serious. She tilted her head at me, doing that smug, know-it-all thing she always did, that was annoying but cute as hell. “Because we need to pass exams,” she said sweetly. “And to pass, we need to read. It’s kind of important, don’t you think?”

She told him, I am concerned about the reason why you write, I observe that you do not promote yourself or show any interest so that your works are known in other latitudes. I write for several reasons that are important to me, he told her. It serves as an outlet for me because I express part of my life in my writings, it is as if I shared a little piece of my soul with my readers. What I write leaves teaching, he who seeks finds, my books are read by people who need to read those lines, either to learn or because of the need to share with someone related to their ideas.