Pathos
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Momentous change rarely manifests itself as a moment of enlightenment, an instant where tiles match up in the mahjong of our minds. Instead, we gather information slowly, gradually defining our perspective with each new revelation, like a Wheel of Fortune contestant as Vanna flips the letters. Occasionally, an event occurs that opens the floodgates of knowledge, enriching us with experience and “Voila!” we dont need to buy another vowel because those synapses finally connect. Something so simple as learning to read functions as a catalyst, forever altering our lives through an influx of knowledge or an opportunity for distinction.
At five years old, reading provides more entertainment to me than any TV show or toy ever could. Quite simply, I love to read; I spend half my waking hours reading or going to the library to return old books and acquire new ones. Given the choice between reading andwell, anything, I take reading every time, without even pausing to consider the other option. History, mystery, horror, biography, science-fiction- I drink it all in voraciously, discriminating not even slightly. How many youngsters leap out of bed in the morning to grab the daily paper before their parents? I experience such a sundry array of emotions that I possess wisdom and insight far superior to that of my contemporaries. The people I encounter in my daily life quickly notice this fact; after all, sensitive, compassionate five-year-olds prove to be something of an enigma.
The fact that I exude responsibility and trustworthiness attracts less notice than the fact that I speak well, even eloquently, for someone who still needs help tying their shoes in the morning. Quite obviously, noticing my conscientiousness would require some time spent with me, whereas as soon as I speak, adults exclaim, “What an intelligent boy!” This leads to resentment among my more cretinous classmates, many of whom still wear diapers and suck their