Humanity keeps acting like everyone has that one book they’ve read fifteen times. The Bible. The Lord of the Rings. 1984. Some dog-eared paperback that’s apparently become part of their personality. Meanwhile, I’m over here looking at a bookshelf like it’s decorative furniture. Books and I have reached a mutual agreement. They leave me alone, and I leave them alone.

Don’t get me wrong. I read all the damn time. News articles, websites, documentation, Reddit rabbit holes, random Wikipedia pages at two in the morning because somehow I needed to know how old payphones are. I’ll spend an hour reading about old computers, Linux, punk bands, or some obscure piece of 90s technology without thinking twice. Hand me a 400-page novel, though, and suddenly I need to reorganize my garage or stare at the ceiling for a while. My brain just doesn’t work that way.

People act like if you don’t read books you’re somehow missing out on becoming enlightened. Relax. Information doesn’t only come bound in hardcover. Some of us learn by digging through articles, watching documentaries, tinkering with computers, and falling headfirst into whatever weird topic grabs our attention that day. It’s still learning. It’s just missing the bookmark and the coffee shop photo for social media.

So the book I’ve read more than any other? None. Zero. I don’t have one. I’d rather spend that time learning something I can actually use or fixing something that’s broken. Besides, life already comes with enough chapters nobody asked for. I don’t need to buy more of them.