I honestly can’t remember a time when books weren’t a part of my life. Some of my earliest memories involve flipping through pages, completely absorbed in stories that felt more vivid than reality. It started with fairy tales—talking animals, lost princesses, enchanted forests—and over time, my taste shifted, but the love for reading never faded.

As a child, I didn’t quite understand the gravity of reading. It was simply a way to pass the time when I wasn’t playing or watching TV. But looking back, I can pinpoint numerous moments where books influenced me, and I realized that reading has been one of the most constant threads in my personal development. They’ve taught me patience, perspective, and how to sit with uncertainty. They’ve kept me company through different phases of life, whether I was completely overwhelmed or just needed an escape. Through books, I’ve traveled to places I’ve never been, slipped into the minds of people who see the world differently, and experienced emotions I might not have encountered otherwise.

I’ve always been drawn to stories that make me feel something—romance that tugs at my heart, thrillers that keep me on edge, horror that unsettles me just enough, and fantasy that demands full attention. Some books stick with me long after I finish them, while others are just quick distractions. Either way, every book I’ve read has added something, even if it’s just the memory of how it made me feel at the time.

And while I don’t always have the time or headspace for heavy reads, I know I’ll always come back to them. Reading isn’t just a hobby—it’s one of the few constants in my life. Even when I take a break, I always find my way back.