I love books. I lost track of time and kept on wondering when was the first time I declare my love for books. I read a lot. I thought reading was good and nothing would have gone wrong with reading. Turns out I was wrong. One day I had this kind of weird trauma coming at me in an instant. It was in the past but just the thoughts of it hurt. It was the book I feared off. There was a reason but I'd rather not talk about it. I keep myself away from books for some time but soon slowly recovers. 

Time slowly pass as I overcome my fear. Yes, no one knows. Had my no book time for quite a while except for an educational purpose. Somehow I started to heal back. Call me a liar but reading all those deep terms of science kinda helps me forgets everything and it makes me happy. I crave for more books thus I read another. The fact that people who read silently with their glasses on looks nerd, I don't mind it. Lost into another dimension of unreal reality. That was a bonus.