Have you ever mourned the ending of a book? Felt like you’ve just lost a close friend? Known that you will never be able to hold the same sensations, same feelings as the first time you read it? I have never tried to explain to someone how I feel when I finish a book that has moved me. There is no way for me to be able to explain how it touched me, or even why it touched me the ways it did. There are so many times I wish I could share the thoughts, feelings, emotions that are racing through me, but words fail. Ironic, really. Words are what brought these emotions into being, and yet words are incapable of even touching on what’s running through my head and heart. It frustrates me sometimes to feel like I can’t even share my deepest thoughts and feelings with the people around me. I want them to be touched as I was, to have the sensation of meeting a new friend that I get from reading. When I finish a book, I feel like I am letting go of a dear friend that I will never be able to see again. Even though I can read the book again, it’s not the same feeling as when I read it the first time through.
There are some books that hit me like nothing else. I can’t put them down. I forget the world that is around me. In books is when I truly feel like I can fly. There are so many times in my life when I feel in the way, feel useless, clumsy and uncoordinated. But in reading, I can shed my poor excuse for a physical body and soar. I can fly higher and farther and faster than I ever even thought possible. I can visit lands that I have never seen or heard of before. I can see and hear and touch objects, emotions, thoughts, that I have no other way of understanding. Through books, I gain the grace that I always wish I have in my daily life.
Books, for me, allow me the opportunity to explore myself. By the emotions conjured through reading, I learn more about who I am, what I stand for, what I believe and want. I can relive parts of my past that are painful, but somehow these times feel less daunting in the world of a book. I can draw parallels between the worlds of books. Even down to feeling like I’ve seen or read something before only to realize that it was merely a similar thought on different pages. In exploration, I gain closure. I regain composure, a part of me I thought had been lost. I feel like I am not judged for the transgressions I have made against the world. I am allowed an opportunity to make peace with the past and make way for my future, my new self.
I much prefer the books to movies, always. Books allow the imagination to run rampant. The worlds I imagine in books are far more fantastic than any movie can create for me. I have more opportunity to set my own pace in a book. The more exciting parts I can read through quickly. I feel my heartbeat increasing; I find myself having to catch my breath at the end, slowing as the characters slow. In passion, I can feel each caress; I can recreate the beauty of the moment, of two souls becoming one, intricately bound to each other for eternity. In these moments, I can feel only what I have imagined true love to feel like. I slow and allow each breath, movement, flight its due course. I can feel the anger and disillusionment rising in me when one character betrays another. I feel overwhelming joy when two parted souls can finally be together again, if only to die in each other’s arms.
Sometimes I wonder if I am truly to be as rooted in reality as medicine makes me. Am I, the flighty, imaginative Pisces allowed to be so grounded? What happens when I find my imagined world more real than the world of my career? Will someone capture me from the air and clip my wings? Will someone hook me on their line and remove my fins? Is it possible for me to remain rooted in reality while still allowing my imagination the space it needs? And will there ever be someone to understand my wild flights? Will I find someone who cherishes my wild imagination, helps to cultivate it, help keep it alive? Is there someone out there who understands the world of books as I do, or am I destined to accept the fact that the world of books are for me alone to treasure and hold as my own, my one true escape.
No comments:
Post a Comment