I am a knight fighting in a fearsome battle. I am a sorceress casting a powerful enchantment. I am a rebel inciting a revolution. I am all of these things, and so much more, every time I pick up a book and immerse myself in the adventures hidden between the covers. People are forever asking, “Why do you read?” “What’s so great about books?” This, dear readers, is why I read.

To start, I am not outgoing. I don’t initiate conversations and I’ve had the same friends since 7th grade. I’m average looking and medium height, so I can get lost in a crowd easily enough. I’m of normal intelligence, fairly athletic, not really outstanding at anything. But when I pick up a book, all of that slips away. As soon as I feel the spine crack open, finger through the pages, I am no longer me. I am Queen Elizabeth, leading England to a Golden Age. I am Robin Hood stealing away in the night. I am Harry Potter, defeating the Dark Lord and saving the world. In books, I can be anyone, anything I choose. When I read, I am no longer me. I am something so much better.

When people are stressed, lonely, or scared, they do different things. Some go running. Some listen to music. Others vent to friends. But not me; I read. In books, I get to throw down the tyrant. I get to win the crown. I get to vanquish the dragon.

One moment I am in school. The teacher drones on, the fluorescent lights glare from overhead, and peoples’ pens scritch-scratch across their notebooks. The next moment I open my book, and I am transported to the steep slopes Mount Everest. The wind whips across my cheeks, the snowy-sleety mix stings my eyes like needles, and the air is so thin and cold my lungs feel like slabs of ice in my chest. Finally, I top the last ridge, and I am at the top of Mount Everest, the world stretching away from me into forever. Nothing can quell the exhilaration and elation I feel. While others are sitting in a high school classroom fighting to stay awake, I am conquering indescribable challenges.

This is why I read. In books I am no longer the average girl that twenty years from now people will vaguely remember passing in the hall. When I dive into the inky-black words, those creamy-white pages, worlds and places I have only dreamed of come to life. Then, I am no longer me. I am the person I was always meant to be.