One of the many results of being a student a year away from college is that I’m always thinking about things to take with me and shopping. Like I’m always thinking about will I take these clothes or this furniture or these lights. But something I surprisingly never thought about was the books I wanted to take with me – of course until very recently.
And I discovered that I don’t want to take any of my books with me – barring a few of course. But this realisation absolutely blew my mind. I love my books more than anything in this world. I keep them perfectly clean and in a illusively pristine condition that you might think that seven year old books are brand new. I don’t let people borrow my books. Hell, I don’t even let them touch my books.
So why would I leave them behind?
I sort of came to the conclusion that I just don’t feel these books any more. They were a part of my life when I was much younger and dumber. They were instrumental to my life, and I’ve kept them for so long because of this sentimental value, but taking them along with me just have that same effect anymore.
College is an opportunity to start fresh and reinvent myself and while I don’t want to let go of who I was 5 years ago, I don’t want to constantly have them rubbed in my face. Having them around me will emotionally hold me back. I won’t grow as a person or as a reader as much as I would like.
My tastes have also evolved. I don’t want to read the same things anymore. I’ve grown smarter and wiser. I want more than just mindless entertainment from the books I read. I want so much more. And the books I read as a kid just don’t help with that. I want something new and fresh. Something that will contribute to this whole fresh, new person that I want to be.
And this has never really happened to me before. Hence, I consider this some sort of literary and personal revolution.