There’s something both comforting and overwhelming about living in a space surrounded by books. For years, my walls weren’t just walls—they were makeshift libraries. Floor-to-ceiling shelves, stacks on tables, a couple of boxes shoved into closets “for later.” You’d think I was preparing for an apocalypse where survival depended not on canned beans but on having a copy of every novel ever published.
But then came the condo.
Moving into a smaller place forced me to face a truth I’d been avoiding for a long time: I couldn’t keep them all. As much as I loved the sight of spines lined up like old friends, my square footage simply didn’t care about my sentimental attachments. The math was brutal.
The Hard Part
I’ll be honest—it felt like betrayal at first. Each book I pulled off the shelf had its own weight, not just physically but emotionally. The one I bought on a trip to Paris, the dog-eared mystery I devoured in a single night, the fantasy series I promised myself I’d reread “someday.” Spoiler: “someday” never came.
So, I did the only thing I could—I started boxing them up. And box after box, it was like tearing off a bandage in slow motion. My car made multiple trips to the library donation drop-off. Watching those boxes disappear felt like giving away little pieces of myself.
But you know what surprised me? The world didn’t collapse. The sky didn’t darken. My shelves thinned out, yes, but I didn’t suddenly feel like less of a reader.
A Shift in Thinking
The more I looked around my new space, the more I realized: I don’t have to own every book. The ones that truly mattered—those stayed. A handful of favorites, the ones I return to over and over, the ones with notes scribbled in the margins. Everything else? Well, maybe they’re meant to be read and loved by someone else now.
There’s a strange freedom in letting go. I’m no longer weighed down by the pressure of unread books staring me down, silently judging me from their perch. My shelves are leaner, but my reading life feels lighter.
The E-Reader Factor
Of course, the other big shift here is technology. My e-reader has become my new best friend. It can hold more books than I could ever possibly squeeze into this condo—thousands of them, right in the palm of my hand. And while it’ll never replace the smell of paper or the satisfaction of flipping an actual page, the convenience is unbeatable.
Want a new book? Boom. Downloaded in seconds. Traveling? I don’t have to decide which five paperbacks to cram into my bag. They’re all just…there. Waiting.
And the best part? No boxes.
What I Kept
I did keep a “core collection.” Those books that feel like old companions, the ones I couldn’t possibly part with. A few classics, some beloved queer novels, the fantasy sagas that shaped me. The ones that make me smile just by existing.
But I no longer feel the need to hoard every single book I read. I’ve come to see my shelves as more like a curated gallery rather than a warehouse.
Looking Back
Do I miss some of the books I donated? Sure. Every once in a while I’ll think, “Oh, I had that one once!” But then I remind myself: libraries exist. Bookstores exist. And honestly, if I really want to revisit a title, it’s only a couple of taps away on my e-reader.
Downsizing was hard—painful even—but necessary. And in the end, it’s taught me something important: being a reader isn’t about the size of your collection. It’s about the stories you carry with you, whether they’re on your shelves, in your device, or tucked away in your memory.
And hey, now I actually have room for a comfy chair by the window—perfect for reading.
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