Books have been a part of most of my life; I guess my own life is just too boring to get by. Once I was able to pick up a book and read it for myself, I started with the fantastic world of wizardry that is Harry Potter, having moved too many times for how old I was, I had few real world friends, but I learned how real written characters can become to someone, as the characters became to me.
While still in no condition to start making my own decisions for what to read, the next book I picked off of my brothers shelf was Animorphs, which introduced me in the worst possible way to the geek community; I still can’t find anyone else, even among the plethora of convention goers I can meet daily, who loved the story and characters as much as I did, or even anyone that likes it at all, which makes little sense to me, as they were so real.
I have always used books to get away from my own life, to make friends when I didn’t live anywhere consistently enough to make flesh and blood friends, to feel the rush and power that comes from reading something that sounds so real, even though it is performed by a lowly character against all odds. After running out of books at home I hadn’t read, and finally becoming somewhat independent in my readings, I picked up a random book entirely because its cover looked cool; it was called “Tomorrow When the War Began.”
The story covers Australian teenagers in World War III, fighting with all they had to make their township of Wirrawee free once more from the invaders. What caught me the most off guard was how intensely the feelings are expressed… The apprehension of not knowing where loved ones are or if they even still are; the anxiety coming from not knowing what to do in situations well above what your capacity is expected to be; not knowing if the one fighting for life beside you will die, and if that will be your fault; the knowledge that if those fighting with you were gone there would be no one else to befriend, or to be human with. The raw form in which these emotions were delivered, was just right to strike home.
It is sad that fiction, and someone else’s mind can influence my lifestyle so much, but it opened my mind to a new train of thought, enough to make my social life take a backflip from trying to be the center of attention in a dull world, to watching others dull world and seeing what I could do to change them.