It fills me with such sadness to fall out of good habits.
Reading. Schoolwork consumes my time. Had I the choice, I would neglect my school books for leisure reading, I Am the Cheese, or Lord of the Flies, or The Day I Became an Autodidact, or Bonhoeffer. I would consume books like I do oxygen: perpetually, with fervor and enjoyment.
But I wasn't given permission to read, not last year, not Junior year of high school. My parents said I would focus better on my studies if I didn't read. If I cut off my oxygen supply. I would focus on my schoolwork, then, and do better, and not procrastinate.
Did that happen?
Instead of books, I found the internet.
The internet-- and though I say this I love it far beyond I should-- is a cesspool. It is stagnant, rancid, and disgusting. I wish I could take back so much time.
When summer came, I set my mind. Books! I would read them-- read them all-- and love every second.
I picked up something-- anything. I began to read.
It was awful.
A waste of time.
I had no more love for books. I simply didn't care. The words held no magic.
And I returned to my internet, which was more amusing to me.
I regret not reading books more than anything last year.
I understand my parents' wishes and their desire, but it didn't work the way they intended.
I wish it had.