This is an essay I wrote for english and I honestly really love it so here you can read it
Speak: to say words in order to express your thoughts, feelings, opinions, and so on. A verb. This is what people think of when they hear that word. They think of an action; of a moving mouth. I think of a name; Melinda. I think of an amazing, loving, caring author. I think of page turning. I think of not being able to put it down. I think of what Laurie said to me. I think of the book that changed everything for me: Speak.
   I felt the tears come to my eyes as Laurie signed the book that saved me. The feeling of the tremble in my voice made it so hard to think as I tried to tell her how much this book helped me through a similar situation. Iâve never trust someone so quickly after the incident like I had instantaneously trusted this woman as she tightly wrapped her arms around me. Trust had been such a hard thing for me to give even after almost seven years.
I will try to make a traumatic event simple (if that is possible). When I was nine, my Grandfather had tried to touch me in ways that were too friendly. I shut down. If I couldnât trust family, who could I trust? I (or my parents) couldnât even trust the law to keep me safe either. Thanks, all I wanted was a protective order. The judge apologized- maybe Grandpa could too? No. I had a rough time coping, as anyone would. Someone who I trusted and spent so much time with had tried to abuse me. None of us saw it coming, but I suppose no one ever does in situations like that. Because of this, I did more than empathize with Melinda as I read Speak. I knew. I knew exactly how she felt first hand. Scared. Distrustful. Violated. Betrayed. Alone. That feeling gave me a whole new meaning and purpose for reading.
Until that point, reading was done for amusement. It was just something I enjoyed to pass time. I didnât have a preference for what I read. I read fact books, mysteries, series, animal books, fantasy, realistic fiction. I never read anything that affected me at all, let alone in the brusque and unassailable way Speak had affected me. Revelling in that feeling of being understood, I craved to read more books that would create that same feeling. I craved to read more books I could relate to. Speak had showed me this whole new idea that still helps me today. Everyone says reading helps them escape from reality, but for me, not so much. Reading taught me to face my problems head-on. Reading taught me and reading showed me this whole new idea of dealing with life. I purposely sought out books with teen conflicts and such because I was able to relate to them.
Reading literally rips my emotions out of me. I donât talk about things very much. Well, no. I donât let my emotions out as much as I should. Yes, I face my problems. However, I do it with it a lot of unhealthy emotional suppression. Reading books with characters I can relate and get attached to literally tears me open inside. The emotional reaction I get when a character dies or when I literally feel the same heartbreak they feel, is like the crack on a dam giving in and all that water bursting out of control. I imagine it is because I give a damn. Books have literally broken my heart but they are one of the only things that keep me from having a mental break. It is something with how the lines that make me crack are written. The more I can relate, the more emotion is pulls. It is a coping mechanism that works like a charm because I can cry without being judged. All that suppression just bursts out the dam and I feel okay again. I donât fully understand how or why this helps so much.. It just does.
   Reading is amazing. I canât express how much reading helps me. Reading is the one things that instantly calms me. A book, a hot cup of coffee, a big comforter, and a soft bed is the best way I can think of to ease any anxiety. I could be on the brink of an anxiety attack and that exact activity will stop it from going into full blown panic.
   I remember this one time, I was walking home in the dark. It was seven oâclock on a winter night. No stars dark. I swore I kept hearing noises and it was sending literal shivers down my spine, and it was not even that cold. Maybe 40 degrees. I know I wouldnât have been shivering. I thought I heard footsteps at one point and cut across to the other side of the street. I felt like a cat with their fur standing straight up. I had been so aware to the point that it had really been paranoia. I couldnât stop moving my hands and looking around me. I started to feel the beat of my heart banging against my sternum and my breath catching my in my throat. Just as my eyes started to sting with the salts of fear, I pounded up the four steps at my door upon arrival. I darted straight to my room. I had been reading The Impossible Knife of Memory at the time. I snatched the book and soared into the comforts of my bed. I quickly got under my pink and purple leopard print comforter. I read. I just read. I read until I couldnât hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I read until my eyes werenât stinging with fearful tears. I read until I couldnât feel the vein in my right wrist twitching. I read until the throbbing in my left temple had soothed. I read until my chest stopped doing jumping jacks. I read until I gasped and let out a breath, the relief of that panic leaving my shoulders flowing through me. I had only read two pages, five minutes.
   I am beyond thankful for reading for these things and even more.
   Persistence. Vexatious. Insinuate. Secret. Ankh. (Noun. Adjective. Verb. Noun. Object.) These are words. Vocabulary. Facts.  I love learning new things, especially words. Those are words I learned from books, well a small few of them. The idea of words first interested me when we first started learning about antonyms and synonyms. Why is there more than one word to say the same thing? Laugh and giggle. Words have opposites? Love and hate. Words can have two meanings? Bowl and bowl. They sound and spell out the same- but one you roll toward random pins down an alley for sport. The other you eat out of. This whole idea was so fascinating to me as a kid and still is. Our english language is so complicated. It made me focus more on what I wanted to say. I quickly learned that asking and demanding are not the same, they are almost opposites. Good thing I never had to ask for books in the beginning, I suppose. It may not have gone as well as I would have wanted.
   My Mom had started my book collection before I had even been born. I had all these different varieties. She had collected Little Golden Books, Dr. Suess books, Berenstein Bears books, these rainbow fish books (I could never remember her name and my Grandma doesnât remember either?), and even disney themed books. I was always surrounded by books. And surrounded by people reading. Grandma read recipe books and magazines. My Grandpa had  always been reading the Bible or something biblical. Maybe a fishing magazine. My Mom had always been reading fantasy books. My Dad read comics and anything I was unable to read on the computer. I grew up being read to by all of them.  Typical, I know. But bedtime stories were my favourite thing. Grandma read to me whenever I stayed over until things started changing.
Once I reached the first grade, my Dadâs new favourite thing to say to me was âSound it out.â(Cause you know, you learn all that stuff in kindergarten, may as well use it, right? He sure thought so.) It used to be so annoying until I listened. After that, I wanted to read EVERYTHING. I had began forcing my Mom to listen to me read all those books she had collected years prior. My Dad too. I was always encouraged by them. âGood job!â âYou did great!â âWow! That was a big word, kiddo!â Why would I ever stop reading after all that? I never have stopped. Next thing we all knew, I was reading to Grandma at night. I was reading to all of them. I had one time read a whole book in three hours to my Grandparents and my sister (I didnât really give them a choice. I was extremely persistent about this new skill.). I was a third grader and the book was about 100 pages, no more than at least.
   If you think three hours is a long time, try whole entire days. I can read a 300 page book in six hours when I do nothing but read. I really enjoy trying to increase my reading speed. Itâs a challenge to me, and I love to challenge myself.
   Basically, reading isnât just reading. Reading isnât a big thing; reading is a bunch of small things. Reading is teaching. Reading is relatable. Reading is therapeutic. Reading is comfort. Reading is that thing that makes you face your problems. Reading is learning. Reading is coping. Reading is calming.
   Reading is fun. I will always speak of it because Speak was the book that made me realize all those things. Reading is fun, but it is also so, so, so much more.
