Reading - The Lost Art

Many times, I have looked up from my book, Snapped back to reality. There may have been a reason, a tap on my shoulder, someone calling my name, maybe a school bell ringing. No matter what it was, I would be pulled away reluctantly, blinking once, twice. Talking, Going to my next class. The truth Didn't change, All I wanted to do was just to go back.

Many times, I have looked up from my book, to see my peers, holding a book they had to read for class. They talk with each other, make jokes with each other.

I have seen, within those pauses of those little talks, those small chats, they have opened there book. I can only watch in disgust as they blindly slash at words, never understanding, never feeling The power of what they possesed.. In there blindness, there holding onto reality, they just can't stand it anymore, and turn to their friends, trying to quell their "boredom."

Many times, I have looked up from my book, to see a fellow student of mine looking down on me. They often times ask me, "How can you just keep reading like that?"

Many times, I have replied, "Eh? I'm enjoying myself."

Many times, I have received a look from this person, a look that expressed that this person could not believe anything other then what I said was nothing more then sheer idiocy.

And, Many times, I have looked apon this person as he walked away, with nothing more then pity, because they simply won't understand. They simply don't know what reading is.

You may think you can read, but I'll never believe you. You may understand what the words mean, but doesn't prove anything. Only when you sit down and forget about everything else, Only when that thing in your hand is all that matters, Only when you disconnect from yourself...

Only then, will the words come off the paper.