She reads too much.
Lives too long in the shadows of other people’s lives.
Spends too much time imagining the cobbled streets of eighteenth century London,
examining the architecture of ancient Venice,
and transforming herself into the daring heroine of Troy.
Young women simply can’t live between the pages of a historical fiction novel forever.
Bad for the brain cells
stunts creativity
disconnects from the real world.
What are you reading?
Why do you always have your nose in a book?
Why were you gone for so long?
What’s so important about that book anyhow?
How can you read so long, it’s so boring?
How can you read so long, it’s so boring?
Boring.
Boring is staring at the clock because class isn’t finished for another hour, and that mystical land of dragons and maidens is burning a hole in your bag.
Boring is having nothing left to read that you haven’t already read and re-read over and over.
Boring is a world where one must read in secret for fear of being over educated like in Victorian time.
Boring isn’t being able to catapult yourself into the parchment of years past into another’s life that is anything but
Boring.
Boring is now.
She reads too much.
