LIFE ON A SHELF

Anna Kleinschmidt

by Anna Kleinschmidt

Story

I am not an interesting person. Most days I just sit at home without moving much, staring at my phone, or a book, or the TV. On more active days, I might pick up a controller and put on a game. Mostly, I just watch the same things over and over. I don’t know why you asked me to write something about myself.

Now you are an interesting person. All the stories you told me! Why is it not you writing this in my place? I could write novels about you. But that isn’t what you asked me to do.

Since I’m not an interesting person, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to write. You want me to, though, and I could never deny you.

Have you ever been asked about yourself and just didn’t have anything to say? Perhaps reconnecting with old friends or meeting new people. Maybe even when you’re asked about your interests during a job interview. Have you been in the company of people who feel so much bigger than you? Have you scrambled for something to say, realising that you’ve been wasting away in a tiny room you haven’t left in a month?

When I tried to come up with something to write, sitting in that same tiny room, my gaze kept wandering to my books. I realised that when I try to think about my past, I usually think of something I read at the time. It is my sincere hope that the same will be true for you. I find it astonishing that so many of my deepest thoughts are bound to those of other people. This has made one problem clear though: I can’t tell you about myself without telling you about my books. I fear it would omit an essential part of me.

I think that most people who read will find themselves in a similar position, which makes me wonder. What do the thoughts of people who don’t read look like? The times I didn’t read much, I can only remember by the absence of memories. I found this distressing once, but now I don’t mind much. After all, what is there to remember about a time when I was only me? On my own, I’m not interesting enough to be a story. With someone else at my side, unreal as they may be, I feel like more. Less nothing. Are you anything when there is nobody to see? To perceive?

The point is that to see me, you have to see what I read. So, I’ll just tell you about those untouchable moments when line and life align.

© Anna Kleinschmidt 2022-08-01

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