Reading Is My Escape

Just as the title says, it is my escape.
I suffer with depression and anxiety, and sometimes the goings on in reality are just too much to cope with.
I need to run, I need to hide, I just need to get away.
Books give me that sanctuary I so desperately need.
I didn't have an easy childhood, I struggled to just get by, dealing with things no child should even know about, nevermind have to pick up the pieces after experiencing.
From a very young age, when things going on around me had me thinking that i surely would never survive it all, I would pick up a book, and for that short while that it took me to devour the words between the covers, I would be safe.

I'm avoidant, and i know that there are downfalls to coping with things in this way. But i've survived.

I could never be without books. My dream is to one day have a house big enough so i can have my own library. So far, i only have a reading nook, with floor to ceiling bookshelves, in my bedroom, but it is a start, it is my safety.

Some people have blankets, or a much loved cuddly. I have Hayden, Ahern, King, Grisham, McDermid, Dahl, Tolkein, Rowling, Lewis, Coelho, Picoult and Harris, among many many more. They are my security blanket, my old raggedy teddy bear.
CrippleAndStarfish CrippleAndStarfish
18-21, F
May 20, 2012