The One Where I Ruminate On My Uncontrollable Book-Buying Extravaganzas

Ever had that feeling of untainted, emotionally fulfilling bliss that comes after you receive your book mail? Ever felt your fingers tingle and your body energized as you rip off the packaging and the plastic and all the unnecessary wrapping until you finally pull out the books you ordered and waited for since last week? Ever felt the satisfaction of finally being able to put your new babies on your shelf and calling them yours finally? 

As a book nerd, I only ever started appreciating book hauls in college. That time, stress had become a constant in my life. Like my shadow, it followed me around every day, everywhere. When I discovered online bookstores, my life changed. After I made my very first purchase, the anticipation of getting books in the coming days filled me with giddiness. (I love going to physical bookstores to shop but there are sellers online who offer titles I can't find anywhere for dirt cheap.) When the delivery guy finally contacted me to inform me that he had my package, I was just about ready to burst with joy. And as the years passed, I became obsessed with that temporary burst of excitement, that rush of pure bliss. 

Now, I'm an addict. A book addict, that is.

Over the years, I've compiled a list of books I want to buy and read and every year, this list keeps getting longer. In February 2018, I found a job that paid well enough. I could sustain myself and my dad every month, buy little bits and bobs for the house, and order books. Every time I saw a book that was in my list, I almost immediately buy it. Sometimes, my conscience prevents me from going gaga and splurging on every book I want, but more often that not, the book addict in me prevails.

Just this month, I succumbed to a book-buying frenzy that has made me feel both ecstatic and guilty. I dressed this problem down by calling it retail therapy or even fooling myself into thinking that I deserve this after being stressed all the time. But as I sit here, typing this, waiting for a batch of books I ordered last week, I realize it's not healthy anymore. The joy is temporary, and the stress always wins. My demons always win.

I need self-control and maybe a little organization to keep myself level-headed and practical. If I keep indulging in my book-hoarding tendencies, I'm afraid I'll fall out of love with reading. And I definitely don't want that. 

So this will be the last month that I will let myself loose. Next year, I'll be better at this. Hopefully.