The smell of a new book would always make me feel some kind of way — simply breathing in that first whiff of the slightly ivory colored pages would evoke a sense of joy throughout my body. This feeling of elation allowed me to immensely look forward to the books set ahead in my reading schedule as a kid, making me long for more to be assigned to me, or for new ones to come out.
As a sixth grader, I was right in the midst of middle school drama. I wasn’t as interested in any of
my courses, but I always enjoyed the free reading time we were given during our English classes. My teacher would dim the lights and turn on soft meditation music. Some days the ambiance was so comforting that I was tempted to sleep — but not this time. I had entered a Christmas raffle at school to win the first few books of the Warriors series (a compilation of fantasy novels regarding the historical journey of cats); after a week, my name was called upon during the announcements, stating that I had won one of the raffle prizes and needed to proceed to the library. I raised my hand to ask to go to the library to claim what I had surprisingly won. Giddy with excitement, I practically tripped down the hall towards the LRC, trying my best not to draw attention to myself while passing the other classrooms.
In a white basket with ribbons tied around the series, there it was — 8 books all bundled up together in a far more presentable way that I had expected them to be. The spines of the books had yet to be pressed down, free of wrinkles and any creases. I carefully picked the package up with two hands, cradling it as if it was a newborn baby. Some may argue that I was being overly dramatic, but there’s nothing quite like a new book. I held it tight to my chest as I walked back to my classroom. However this time, instead of running back, my eyes were glued to the floor, forcing myself to focus on taking one step at a time. After what seemed like ages, I finally found my way back to the classroom. I sat down in my chair, and placed the books on top of my desk. I immediately undid the ribbon, and opened the first book I could grab fast enough, and there it was — the smell that I had been longing for since the moment I heard my name being called on the announcements.
Ever since the start of my high school career, this love and excitement for obtaining a new book has continued to be present – however, the enthusiasm to carry on past that point, and actually read the content there has unfortunately faded away. What used to be ambition to complete a series of books, or just one single novel, has turned into dread, as my mindset now automatically connects reading to unwanted work and assignments. Some of the books presented to me throughout the past high school years, however, have piqued my interest greatly, like the Kite Runner, and The Devil in the White City; it’s just that now, the environment to read has lessened in the sense of enjoyment. The euphoric feeling, the bright light that once used to surround the idea of reading, has dimmed tremendously. Now, there is just a faint glow, barely illuminated.