"That's crazy! Books can't be your friend. They're inanimate objects!"

After my professor, a literary scholar, stated that she finds some of her best, most cherished friendships to be those she shares with books, one boy in my class refuted this point.

"You don't talk to your books, do you?"

She replied calmly that she doesn't need to, in fact, for they seem to understand her regardless.

To this, he responded that books do not have souls.

Obviously, he hasn't read Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets or he would've known that books can, in fact have souls. Or at least house part of one anyway...

Ever since I was little, I've loved to read. My first stories were read to me by my parents, and as soon as I learned to read I embarked off on my own adventures. Although I never consciously realized it, some of my first friends were those within the pages of my favorite books.

I first found friendship with Winnie the Pooh and co. in Hundred Acre Wood. Whenever I had nightmares and couldn't sleep, the words of my favorite adventures were always there to comfort me as only a friend can.

Soon, I discovered more and more worlds full of new friends for me to uncover. Harry, Ron, and Hermione (and I could never forget friends like Hagrid and Dobby). Percy, Annabeth, and Grover. Clary, Jace, and Simon. These trios, as well as many more, became the people I looked to when I needed a friend, or when I just wanted the warm feeling and stories they provided.

At this point, I was averaging about a book a day, and showing no signs of slowing down. With each new book came new characters, and new attributes for me to admire and confide in.

I still look to these characters as some of my truest friends. Although they cannot be friends in a literal sense, due to not literally existing, the solace they provide is comparable to that of a comforting friend.

The feeling a book provides, especially the empty feeling when one has been finished, make them some of my best friends (no matter what that boy in my class thinks).