Confessions of a Bookaholic

 I woke up this morning with a bright smile on my face and a strong feeling of bliss. Actually, I woke up with my hair tangled up like it was string and with a bad case of morning breath. But, anyway, I woke up feeling good, because, well, it was Monday the 16^th and there was no school today. I got off my bed and my blissfulness was immediately overshadowed by shock.

     

My desk was a mess!

     

Books and notebooks were strewn around its black surface. Hardcovers, paperbacks, a DVD copy of Mean Girls. I looked at the books, titles such as The Forbidden Game by L.J. Smith and Killing Mr. Griffin by Lois Duncan were among the mess, and I realized I was in the middle of reading all of them.

     

And that, my friends, scared the bejesus out of me.

     

There were at least ten books in there; I couldn’t possibly be reading all of them, right? But I was. I really was.

     

Oh, God, I was.

     

I’ve been in this situation before. Just a few weeks ago I’d been reading 12 books at a time. And whenever I finished a book, I would find another one and another one. Reading was getting in the way of my writing and my life; I was spending way too much time reading. Then I realized it was too much, and I tried hard to finish those books. And I did. I finished all those books and I promised myself I would never let it happen again.

     

But I did.

     

I don’t know how it happened. I just started reading one book. One! Just one tiny, thousand page book by Stephen King. Still, it was only one. And somehow that turned into two. And three. Then there were those two Lois Duncan books I got. And the L.J. Smith book my mom bought me. And the newest Sara Shepard book. I couldn’t possible pass out on the newest Pretty Little Liars novel! Let’s not forget about the series of young Sherlock Holmes. And if that wasn’t enough, I have three books in my closet I’m planning to read sometime soon, and those two books I bought ages ago but never really read.

     

That’s when I realized the truth: I was a bookaholic.

     

It might not involve drugs, or alcohol, or shopping (yes, I’m referring Becky Bloomwood right here), but I guess it was still an addiction. And addictions are bad, right?

They’re horrible. They make you do horrible things, like kidnap people and stuff. I bet Hitler was some sort addict. Hateaholic, perhaps.

     

Now, if reading is a joy in life, then would being a bookaholic be technically considered the addiction to joy? That wouldn’t be bad. That would be wonderful, fantastic. Joy is not bad. Joy is good. Really good. Extremely good. Who wouldn’t want to be addicted to joy?

     

But, still, I’m not entirely sure I’m a bookaholic. Yes, I read way more than any other teen in the town I live in – Tracy, California – but that’s because they all barely reads. But that doesn’t mean I’m a bookaholic. It surely doesn’t.

     

Is bookaholic even a word? And if it isn’t, then how could a fake word describe a real addiction? So if the word wasn’t technically a real English word, then term would also mean nothing. It wouldn’t exist.

     

I write, so maybe, just maybe, every single writer out there is a bookaholic. Maybe it’s a normal, everyday-thing for us writers. Perhaps Sara Shepard has a closet full of books she’s reading, and at night she stays up and reads the all. Maybe Anna Godbersen has a purse stashed with the works of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Edith Wharton and she pulls one out when the line at the grocery store gets too long. What if L.J. Smith has a bed made of books and when she’s bored she just slips her hand under the covers, grabs one, and cracks it open? I mean, our favorite writers could be bookaholics!  

     

What if everyone in the whole, wide world is one too!

     

Ok, I need to clean it up. I need to finish all those books up and go back to reading one book at a time. I can do that. Yes, yes, I can. I really can! I know I can!

     

Well…

     

…the new Sara Shepard novel comes out next month – Two Truths and a Lie, Book #3 of The Lying Game series – and I’m obviously going to buy it. And then there’s book #5 of the Gone series on April. And Sweet Evil by Wendy Higgins on May. And the other Pretty Little Liars book that comes out on June or July. Also, let’s not forget about The Lucky Ones by Anna Godbersen during the fall. And then there’s those other books I’ve been wanting to read since forever.

     

Oh, God, I’m never going to be done, am I?