I am an avid reader. I grew up finishing a series in a weekend (if I could get my hand on all the books). I have had books confiscated because I was reading them during class. I can still sit in the library all day and read without a care in the world.

Unfortunately, college does not grant much time for pleasure reading. I read my chemistry book every weekend and online articles. This semester I was lucky to have to read science fiction novels for my English class.

That's why one of the things I was grateful for this Thanksgiving was that I had the time to read a book of my own choosing. It was "Deadly Design" by Debra Dockter. I had discovered it in the chemistry building's mini library.

It was good read, but this isn't another book recommendation. After reading "Deadly Design", I realized how much I had changed despite only becoming 18 a month ago. The book I had chosen was obviously in the YA section; a genre I gravitated towards most of high school.

I realized how disconnected I was with the characters.

For the first time, I was older than the characters in the novel. I didn't relate to their worries as much as I had when I was 14. The inevitable love triangle was not a topic of end-of-the-world debate. I didn't care who ended up with who, in fact, I found myself more interested in the older side characters helping the protagonist.

My apathy towards the characters prompted me to suddenly feel as if I must quickly read all the current YA novels. It was like I had to consume them like a school of piranhas devouring a chunk of meat. Growing up felt tangible and I didn't want to let go of one of the few things that connected me to my childhood.

For the past year, I had continued to read YA books because I had continued to believe I belonged to that demographic. I did not want to face the reality I would be going to college. I didn't want the shock of already feeling disconnected to my early teen years to settle in and become normal.

Except one semester of college later, it did become my normal. And I can accept it. YA novels shaped my interests and personality; they helped me deepen bonds with friends, and influenced me as a writer. They were my comfort on rainy days and long weekends. I will always remember screaming for my sister when I experienced second-hand embarrassment for the main character. I smile when I think about all the times I texted my friend in all caps because I was upset my favorite character had died. I am thankful for all the memories YA literature has given me.

Even if I did manage to read all the relevant YA books, I wouldn't enjoy myself. I wouldn't connect, I wouldn't care, and I would be wasting my time. There time as prominent players in my life has passed. The books I have chose to read are a timeline showing how I have grown as a person. I grew up; and growing up means letting go.

Besides, there are plenty of adult novels for me to replace the role YA had on my life.