How I Wish I Wanted to Read…


Yes, I am the goofy looking child with three ponytails sticking out of her head and a smile that screams silliness.

I used to read a book a week, but now I barely have time to read the books given to me for school. It used to be a leisurely activity, something that I utilized to break the monotony of television, but now it feels more like a chore than anything else.

In English III, we read and subsequently wrote an essay on the decrease of reading in our daily lives. While I was first reading the article, I vehemently disagreed with the author and his theory over “The Death of Reading”. Reading is not going away, I thought, it is still thriving and ever present in our daily lives.

By the end of the article, I still believed that we read often, but the art of reading for pleasure is, in a sense, dying.

If it wasn’t for the copious amount of books and textbooks assigned to me, I don’t think that I would read. I used to fantasize about curling up on the couch next to a cozy fire with a new book, but now? Now I can’t stand the sight of a book because they are constantly being shoved down my throat.

The push for literacy in schools almost pulls me away from reading. Instead of being able to read books that hold value for me, I am forced to read inconsequential novels that have nothing to do with me and are of a genre that holds no importance for me.

Hopefully there will come a time when I can recapture the love of reading I once had, but for now, that’s not realistic.