Dear Reading
May 4, 2026
Writer: Riley Lenson
Editor: Jordan Knipsel
Dear Reading,
For many people, a library card is an unlikely golden ticket. But for eight-year-old me, it was what catapulted me into an undiscovered world, one where stories, novels, and happily ever afters ruled. From that point on, I saw a special kind of magic in getting lost in the margins of a book, completely immersed in an artfully created fantastical reality. No matter the volume of the world, everything became quiet when I opened a book.
From trading book recommendations with my mom and sister, sharing reviews on Goodreads with friends, and anxiously anticipating my favorite authors’ new releases, reading became much more than a pastime—it was an integral part of my identity growing up. I cherished the escape from reality that I found in books, where I could follow a story oblivious to what was happening around me. No day was complete without reading at least a few pages, and I was proudly the only student in my English class who didn’t complain when we had a book assignment. It never felt forced to dive into a story; rather, it was the opposite.
Over time, however, I suddenly found myself reaching for books less and less. The downtime usually spent reading has gradually been replaced by calling family or old friends, grabbing coffee / hanging out with new friends, or simply scrolling on my phone. I fell deep into a reading slump, with no books piquing my interest the way they did before. It felt like a part of who I am was gradually dissipating.
How could something that brought me so much joy every day no longer be part of my daily routine? I’ve asked for book recommendations, experimented with different genres, and even reread my favorites to try to get back into reading, but it just hasn’t stuck the way it used to. It’s easy to see this change as a loss, regardless of how insignificant it may seem to other people, and it’s endlessly difficult to come to terms with changes in identity, especially unintentional ones. Eventually, however, I learned to view this as the start of a new chapter, where certain aspects of the old ones no longer fit the plot.
Reading offered me an escape that nothing else seemed to provide, and while I will always find something special in stories, I can appreciate that there’s less to escape from now. Although the predictability of a plot already laid out for me will always be comforting, the business of life has gradually felt less overwhelming. It’s the things that pull me away from my old habit, like the people I’m surrounded by or the opportunities offered to me, that have allowed me to explore my nonfiction world more than ever.
I’ve learned a lot from the stories I’ve read, from the earliest elementary tales to more recent memoirs and narratives, and I know that they’ll always be there along the way. But for my newest chapter, I’m content with leaving the pages unturned and living in the moment.
Thank you, Reading,
Riley
