I’m not saying that because “a book is like a close friend” (even though it can be). And as much as I love books (the feel of them in hands, the way new books smell like coffee and ink, and the way old library books smell so strongly of mothballs I have to hold On the Road two feet from my face every time I turn the page, or how the spine bends back on a paperback…ororor), I’m not even going to say the bit about books taking you to new worlds, or that fictional characters can be more of a comfort than actual people, or that reading makes us more interesting and attractive to others, and maybe more approachable…

No. I’m saying, if you’re lonely, read a book, because it’s therapy. It’s a practice in discipline. It’s an activity, no matter how much you love it (or don’t… But if you don’t, how did you find my blog anyway?), that forces you to stay in one spot and do something.

Sometimes, when I’m sad about something/anything/nothing (a boy that rejected me, saying goodbye to college, the smell of dirt that inches it’s way through my lungs every so often and reminds me of childhood…), I just stop thinking, and I breathe. I focus on nothing but my body…the clarity of my mind. And sometimes I walk (which is probably the best practice of all and probably what this blog post should really be about). But sometimes it helps to indulge and pick up a book to get your mind off your troubles and onto someone elses. I hate to admit this, but sometimes books can be a guilty pleasure… Much like a Netflix marathon of Greek, but I promise reading has more benefits. So, I always have a book on hand… In my car, my purse, on my shelf at work…

We all know that reading is an escape from reality, and I think we all welcome that every once in awhile.

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