Books made me a better person
And gave my life meaning
I fell in love with reading when I found myself unable to use my voice.
I was eight years old when I came to Montreal, and I found myself surrounded by strangers who spoke a language I never heard in my life, let alone knew. I had heard of French, but the sounds that were coming out of everyone’s mouth seemed so alien that I became mute.
I cloistered myself in silence as I put up walls to protect myself against the foreign noises.
That’s when I found refuge in books. I could barely understand the words at first, but as weeks and months went by, I realized with wonder that the foreign characters started to make sense. Slowly, one word at a time, I started to understand the stories and I fell in love. Hard. I knew this love will last forever.
Since then, I became a voracious reader and by the age of eleven, I had finished my entire school’s library. Everyone saw my love of reading. My mom started buying me book after book. It wasn’t enough. I went to the town library, which was so much bigger and better than my school’s. I was ecstatic. I had found my paradise. I went every week, taking the maximum number of books allowed — 15 books — my schoolbag heavier than myself and my feet not touching the ground, I would literally fly home so I can hide in my bedroom and escape in the pages of the book. I would open the book and smell the pages. I knew a new adventure awaited me. A new world was opening to me. I was so happy.
I was in my own fantasy land, and I didn’t need this world. I didn’t anything but books. Books and chocolate. My bedroom was filled with books and chocolate wrappings all the time. One of my childhood’s best memories.
My fascination with words grew, and I became bolder. I had received a beautiful journal and colorful fountain pens for my twelfth birthday. It was one of the best gifts ever. I unlocked the small lock, opened the first page, took a deep breath, and I wrote my first story. My heart pounded as I finished it, my cheeks were burning. I never felt prouder of myself than at that moment. Deep inside of my heart, a desire was born. I wanted to be a writer.
My skills grew as I got older, and I felt confident in myself. I was always an A-student, and…
