#4: Why do I read?

I feel a little positive today! :) Shared this on my Instagram, reposting here.

Why do I read?

To feel good? No, hardly. The internet is already a strange place, drowning in needless positivity, divorced from reality. I don't need more. I'd rather read prose that tears me up inside.

To escape? No, far from it. Bollywood offers enough.

To improve, to grow? To be the best version of myself? No, absolutely not. I'm done with self-optimisation.

So, what drives me?

I just want to talk with humans who know how to talk. Increasingly, that's rare — or at least, I can't find it. Reading is talking to the writer. Even though one-way, it feels like a conversation. They want to tell me something; I'm listening, with full attention, without phone playing spoilsport. It's the greatest cure I've found for modern loneliness. That's why I never feel lonely even when I am mostly alone in my mountain home. I buy more books than I could ever read, just so I can pick and choose who I want to talk to.

For some reason, I've noticed that the world often finds us booknerds a strange species. Maybe it's just my perception, but it's a feeling I can't shake off. Some see it as a sign of seriousness, others as a sign of intellect, and yet others think we're delusional for reading rather than living. It's a mix of stereotypes that perhaps says more about society's complexities than it does about us.

The truth is, many of us don't turn to books for any of these reasons. Or at least I don't. It's just that the modern world feels so alienating, so shallow, so performative, that the only places that feel real and humane are in the pages of a good book, in the hands of a responsible writer—those who take responsibility for their art.