July 4, 2026 — 10:10 a.m.
Morning…
Let the rockets’ red glare.
America.
Today is also my father’s birthday.
So…
Happy birthday to him.
I’m not tired today.
I’m just not in the mood to do anything.
But…
I have to go sell.
So it is what it is.
I never thought I’d become a reader.
I’ll be honest…
I don’t really think of myself as one.
Why?
At first, I thought reading would be boring.
Then…
I fell in love with it.
Now…
Life is so busy that finding the time feels harder than reading itself.
But I also know it’s something I need to keep doing.
One book that stayed with me was Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass.
It wasn’t just a story about slavery.
It was a first-person account of a man discovering the world’s hatred for him once he began to see…
Truly see.
A boy who learned to read…
and then realized that hatred had been written into books, newspapers, and the English language itself.
I read it for a history class.
But by the end…
It didn’t feel like history anymore.
It felt like a man allowing me to see…
and to feel.
💬 Reader Question
Has a book ever changed the way you saw the world instead of simply teaching you something about it?
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