For the longest time, I only read non-fiction. I liked how efficient it felt. Clear lessons. Clear steps. Clear answers. It made me feel like I was doing life “right.”
I used to think fiction was a waste of time. Why spend my energy reading about “fake stuff”?
Boy, I was so wrong.
I should have started reading fiction much earlier.
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What I didn’t realise back then is that fiction showed me my way of seeing the world was never the only one that existed.
Through the characters and their stories, I experienced lives, minds, and emotions far beyond my own imagination.
It reminded me there are many ways to be a person, to think, to feel, to live.
It made me question the perspectives I had accepted by default. Are they really the only way to look at things?
Reading fiction feels like holding up a mirror. What you see in it depends on who you are and where you are in life.
There’s no single right answer. No preaching. Just space to reflect, and to slowly learn how to see for yourself.
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