Books

No matter how much I’ve been trying to persuade myself that I’m not, I just have to accept the fact that I’m spending my college fund on books. The first minute I scrounge up just enough money to buy a book I’m already scouring amazon or trying to convince my mother to drive me to one of the few remaining book stores in town. It isn’t like I’m deluding myself or anything. I know I’m doing it and I just can’t stop. I’ll walk into the book store and that’ll be the end of that. I’m leaving with a book if it kills me. One does not simply leave the bookstore without a fresh book in hand.



Books are like a drug to me. The old book smell, oh yeah. You can seriously get high off that stuff. I’m sure if you waited long enough you would see me walking furtively over to my bookshelf, pulling one out, flipping through its pages, and inhaling like there is no tomorrow.



It worries me that once I’m out of the house, can drive, and have a steady income I’ll still be living out a pathetically meager existence because I’ll be spending all my dough on the precious pulp. And what’s more you won’t be able to move around in my house! I’ll have my own A&E special: Confessions of a Book Hoarder. Ohh… I can see it know…




I need to spend more time at the library.