To Whom it May Concern,

An echoing clatter as loud as thunder erupts throughout the house. I struggle to unhinge my jaw from its unnaturally gaped position and attempt to comprehend what has just happened. Half a millisecond later, my fingers fly across the keys of my laptop.

I restlessly scroll through the word-filled screen before me, until I see something that shatters my heart.

“Three years?” I had just spend one hundred and twenty-five hours of my life reading a seven hundred page novel to wait three years to find out what happens next.

Slouching back into my chair and closing my eyes in anguish, I take a deep breath and consider if there is any way that I could fill my void. But alas, I digress. I had experienced this entire song and dance many times before. In fact, this had perhaps been my umpteenth routine.

The routine goes as follows. One; I get my hands on a book that utterly blasts my mind out of existence. Two; My life goals, ambitions, dreams and priorities are tossed, haphazardly aside to make time to devour the words that never leave my hands. Three; A soreness develops between my right index finger and thumb as a result of the infinite hours expended sprawled on my bed or outside on the lush green carpet of my yard, that permitted me to lightly return the last page to its original home; the back cover. And with this final spin the curtain closes.

One might question my (not-so) impressive knowledge when it comes to the world of dance. Well, contrary to popular belief, even nerds- or bookworms, as I prefer to call myself- venture out from behind their covers and try new things.

In my case, I embarked on a (short lived) journey into the world of dance. Although I thoroughly enjoyed gliding through the air, in a series of extensive arm and leg movements, no pop, lock, whip or nae-nae could defeat the sensation of a crisp, yet faded yellow page brushing across my fingers. No box step came within a millimeter of how the fresh smell of ink tickled my nose, nor was any dos-a-dos as satisfying as tormenting people with the fact that I knew what had happened in the last movie of the Hunger Games, months before it came out. And thus, dance was not the thing for me, so the next day I returned to my bedroom, with a stack of books higher than ever before.

But, just as before, all books were finished possibly much quicker than they should have been. Hence, it was time for me to emerge from the library my room had become. This time however, my endeavor lie in the world of sports.

The first sport that I had tried was soccer. However, since the ball refused to listen to what my foot told it, unfortunately soccer did not last either. Softball was next. Astonishingly, I played softball for the next eight years of my life- in between reading marathons, of course. But ultimately, life had become too busy for softball, so that too faded away.

For the next few years, high school had seemed to have stolen all of my time. Between ten classes a day and what seemed like ten hours of homework following, the time for reading, much less sports had diminished. However, despite the lack of time I still find time for myself to savor and appreciate an inspiring read on my bed, or go to the gym to exercise- with a book in hand, naturally.

Sincerely,

Minna Hassaballa