Yes, I just used a hashtag as my title. I may as well confess that I Tweet, too.
But being a book lover has increasingly become a problem of late. Remember how I made a goal to read 50 books on my to-read list this year? For every book I cross off that list, I add five more. There is just not enough time to read even a smidgeon of the books I'm curious about.
Books satisfy some of my most basic needs: entertainment, happiness, and expansion of knowledge. But when I think about all those words I haven't enjoyed yet, my pursuit as a bookworm becomes overwhelming, depressing, and cause for panic.
I remember a time when my biggest book problem was deciding what to read next. I grew up in a world without a library and a barrage of social media—I relied on word of mouth for book recommendations and my parents' checkbook for new books. Thus, my world of books was small (though I didn't always realize it), and the only way to stay in it was to read my favorites over and over again.
But now, despite having more time to read than I ever have, my biggest problem is time. I sneak reading into my lunch breaks, spend hours reading on the weekends, start my bedtime reading earlier when I can, avoid watching TV—but it's not enough. Rather than accept that I'll never bend the spine of every book I'm interested in, I still try to do the impossible.
Like I said, it's a problem.