There are more than 158 million books in the world. That is billions of pages, millions of stories, thousands of readers and hundreds of lives changed. Do you remember the first book you read? “If You Give A Mouse a Cookie” by Laura Numeroff was the first book I read by myself. At the time, I didn’t realize the significance of this milestone, but today, at almost 20 years old, that simple story marked the beginning of a larger journey.
Books are my support system, my escape. When I am having a difficult day or just need a break from my world, I read and live through the eyes of someone else. The power of this transformation is so underrated. Instead of scrolling on social media at night and agonizing over the comparisons, I shut out the world with my Kindle. From Europe in the 1800s to the present day in New York City, I can travel anywhere in the world at any point in time with the flip of a page.
Seeing life through other people’s experiences, stories and perspectives has increased awareness in my day-to-day life. Reading has taught me empathy in ways no lecture ever could. It allows me to step into lives that look nothing like my own and feel emotions I may never otherwise experience. Through books, I have learned what it means to love deeply, to grieve honestly, to fail, to grow and to restart. Each story leaves behind a quiet lesson, even if I do not quite realize it at first. In a world that constantly demands productivity and perfection, reading feels like permission to simply exist.
According to Villanova sophomore Katie Hannon, reading “helps bring you into a different world away from some of the chaos life can bring… without any added external pressures of whether I’m keeping up with the latest trends or having a certain digital presence.”
Unlike social media, books do not ask me to perform or curate myself for others. There is no algorithm deciding what I should feel or think next. The experience is mine. Reading also gives me the freedom to explore who I am without fear of judgment. When I connect with a character, cry at a heartbreaking ending or feel seen by a single line of dialogue, those moments belong only to me. I do not have to explain, justify or package them into something presentable. Books allow me to experience real emotions privately, creating a space where I can reflect and grow without outside influence.
Another reason books have remained such a constant in my life is how deeply personal they are. Everyone reads differently. Everyone gravitates toward different genres, tropes and narratives depending on what they need at that moment in their life. A book that changes one person’s life might mean nothing to someone else, and that is okay. Reading meets you where you are, not where you are expected to be.
As I’ve grown older, my relationship with books has evolved, but their importance in my life has only deepened. What began as a simple childhood accomplishment turned into a lifelong habit, a coping mechanism and eventually a source of comfort and self-discovery. Books have been there during my moments of loneliness, uncertainty and transition, quietly reminding me that I am not alone.
I will never read the 158 million books in the world. However, I know that the ones I do read will continue to shape the way I view the world. Reading is not just something I enjoy, it’s a part of who I am. And it all started with a mouse, a cookie and the realization that within the pages of a book, there is always another world waiting to be discovered.
