Throw TheLiving Silverware

Something happened these past couple days, and I just realized it.

As a kid, I was always a very voracious reader. That continued well into teenage years. I would read pretty much whenever I got time for that. Up until like 12 I would reread constantly the same 4-5 series, then I started really using the local library to its full potential. One day, I was told that the library had several reading clubs, including a teen-oriented one. I immediately joined it, and eagerly participated in the projects. Years later, I'm still sorta there even though I'm well past the target age.

Then I left high school, and got into very busy studies. I still managed to get myself some reading time before sleep. The rest of the day would be filled with hard work, but that... that was my little treasured time far from it. Not that I didn't like the work, I was actually enjoying it quite a bit. But still, I knew I needed that. I couldn't attend the club meetings anymore, but I still read more of the books for that long-run project than anyone else bar one person. (That's the person who did the math and found I'd read 50 club books over two years, as I mentioned in the reply to Glass' SU.)

Those years were intense, but very fullfilling. Until...

I actually wrote several paragraphs on what happened, but a) this is beyond the point of this SU, b) enough stuff happened in those years to fill a full-length novel, and c) I'm not sure I want to dwell to much on those times. So I removed that. What you need to know is that I burned out, almost exactly 3 years ago. At the beginning, I couldn't focus on homework anymore; then over time, more and more areas got affected. I couldn't speak to new people (which was an issue as I changed schools and classes several times), then I started to escape through mostly video games, then all my free time got sucked up into that (so no more reading, way too little work and sleep) and I ended up in a battle against myself over that. Then last March, I got dropped a ton of work out of nowhere and the burnout went to next stage. And then more bad things happened. And even more bad things happened. And soon I couldn't focus on anything at all, neither a book nor a video game nor anything else.

Then the storms calmed down finally. I've been home for the past couple months, taking time for myself, playing a bit of video games, reading some. But I still had so much trouble reading. The books I started were often lying around for weeks without me touching them or barely. I went back to the library at the start of my rest, borrowed lots of books (same as I did before), and had to return most of those unread. I was starting to think that even if I was reading again, I might have lost something... forever.

Then, Wind and Truth happened. At first, it was like the other books I read this year. I was reading it, sometimes, going through it slowly. And then I read the second half in a day and a half. (About 15 hours of reading over 30 irl hours). This hadn't happened to me for a while; for a couple years now, even books that I got "sucked into" didn't do that. 

But then, when I was done, I picked back up another book that had been started a while ago and never finished (not for any reason; I just didn't get through it). I finished it in 2 days. And then I picked up another book, and tore through it again until I finished it this morning. And as I finished it, I understood. And I nearly teared up.

It's back. The little spark I had thought long dead. That ability to just forget myself into any book. One of the things I liked the most about myself, one of the only constants in my entire life, something I had built a big part of my identity around. That thing I had thought worn down and killed by years of burnout and darkness. 

Thank you, Brandon. I don't know how you did it, you probably dont know it either, but you managed to restore a core part of me long after I'd given up on it.