Reading Goals

I have spent the past three years reviewing every single book in my hands. I wanted to contribute to helping writers succeed. Every review matters…I kept telling myself that. To the point, I became obsessed with reading. I can’t deny reviewing a book. The books both digital and print stack up everywhere in my small room. 

It has gotten to the point my grandpa sighed, shaking his head at me. “What are you going to do with all of these books?” 

With that I replied, “they’re my entertainment.” 

He left feeling frustrated that I was wasting my time away. But I’m isolated anyway. What does it matter? I don’t have any physical friends in town to hang out with…I don’t own a car. Besides, I can’t afford to buy one. I’m stuck. Reading books has led me to places I’ve never been. I got to meet a variety of characters. Okay, so they’re fiction…but still. I felt as though I lived a little through them. 

When a book is good enough for me to get lost within it pages, it’s worthy of praise. 

I started out as a blogger. Because it would help me contribute as a Reviewer. I loved reading. Always had my face glued to a book. 

I can’t afford to buy every book that has been released. That’s a perk of being a Reviewer. Being able to read books that have been or about to be released. I love receiving new books to read. I ended up saying, yes, everytime. My load is now, overstocked. I had helpers but none of them are as dedicated as I am to reviewing. They have full-time jobs, a family, and writing of their own to do. So, now, it’s just me. The load feels heavy. The pressure has built up around me. I’ve tried asking for help from avid readers. But to no avail. I’m doing it alone. 

I read every book that comes to me. I have set aside a goal. Every year, despite how busy my elderly grandparents and colleges courses keep me busy, I have managed to pass my reading goal. This year, my reading goal is set to 700 books. I’m up to 400. Next month, I start new college classes. A full class schedule. No extra help on reviewing. Just me. My friends call themselves readers. But none have read more than 30 books a year. 

I recently was called out by a former friend. She said, I didn’t have a husband, a job, nor a home to take care of…she said that to me after I asked her if she knew a bestselling author. I told her she needed to read more. But I bet you she knows popular actors…she claims to want to be a Reviewer like me. But she’s not dedicated to it. Herheart isn’t in it. So, when I said, you need to read more, she got ticked. She shut herself down as a friend. Blocked me from messaging in fact. Whenever she wanted to know something about books, I answered her questions. When I asked her what she was reading or what books she got, she said, it’s late I’ve got to work. She never said what book. I felt like I was constantly interrogating her. 

I have stopped talking to her about books. It’s not worth it. She wants answers from me, but I can’t ask a simple book question, “what are you reading?”

I’ve had others say, I’ll help you review. I sent books out…haven’t gotten reviews back in yet. 

Despite all my failures as a writer, editor, and reader, I still continue. I’m tired of hearing, “you’ll never make it.” Or “you’re too stupid.”

I may be poor, but I am not a quitter. I will continue to work hard, if not harder. Proving that I can succeed. Reading is all I have in this world. If I fail that, or let it go, I’ve got nothing. 

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