Dear Books,

Late at night, I sometimes wonder what I would do without that extra weight that I carry around in my bag all day.

When I leave my house, I never know if I’ll have time for you while I’m out. In fact, I know I probably won’t—and most of the times I don’t—yet, whenever I park my car, I debate with myself about whether I should leave you in the car or take you with me. Because knowing that I have you with me at all times—-that you’ll never let my day get dull and that you’ll always be there—is more of a comfort that anything else I can imagine.

My friends constantly tease me for carrying you around with me all the time. I don’t blame them—they don’t understand our relationship. They don’t understand that there is no part of my relationship with you that is any less important than my relationship with them.

You are my lover, my teacher and my guide. Between your pages, I have found the best of friends, and I have made the fondest memories. In fact, I think our love is the most transformative experiences I ever had. You’re like a drug to me, only less dangerous. I am addicted to you to the extent that I suffer withdrawal symptoms without you.

When I open your cover, I can lose myself in you instantly…

I can spend hours roaming the hallways and hidden passageways behind tapestries in Hogwarts, or I can walk down the streets of Westeros—or Middle-earth. I can spend days in Discworld, Midkemia or Narnia. I can be an eagle, I can be a king, I can climb mountains or swim down to the deepest places on earth. I can be a wolf, and I can be a ghost.

I can live a thousand lives—all because of you.

You have given this world so much, and I want to apologize for the way you have been treated in return recently. I can see you trying so hard to feel accepted and to get back the love that you think you’ve lost. I see you trying to change yourself. You have taken many forms in your attempt to get back your popularity—Kindles, e-books and the like. You have been overshadowed by your counterparts on the big screens. So you try to be like them—briefer, easier to understand and better to look at.

But I just want you to know that you don’t need to do any of that stuff—you are one thing in this world that is perfect.

You are pure and so full of life. You, my dear, are not a conformist. You don’t need to be like them. You are too brilliant and too special to be compared to something created temporarily to appeal to people’s vanity. Because you are not temporary. You are here to stay. The stories you tell never truly leave anyone who has read them.

Late at night, I count all the reasons I love you.

There have been times in my life when I have felt so very alone and hopeless—yet, you never let things get too bad. The days when stress and anxiety have kept me up all night, you have always kept me company. The days when people have let me down, you have lifted me up. You have taught me all that I know about strength and not giving up. Without you, I would never have understood the meaning of existence and the meaning of love.

Late at night, you are my only companion, and I realize how big and full of opportunities the universe really is. Late at night, I cannot tell—not from under the blankets, with my reading light—whether it’s still dark outside or not.

.

Author: Tuba Sajjad

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

Photo: Unsplash/Alexander Solodukhin