My book

Just finished reading atlas shrugged by ayn rand,have always wondered if I was a selfish
self destructive idiot....realised that I was a fair, self loving, objectivist. Left without a book by my side and getting extremely restless about it. Never felt like this since school...with no athletic abilities and scared to death about approaching or being approached by anybody the book spared me the above mentioned trauma. The world could fall apart around me but the noise nor the screams could reach me once a book lay open in front of me inviting me into his world. Nearly half a century later and with a voice louder than the cooker whistle and a tendency to strike conversation with strangers I am unconsioulsy gropping for the firmness of the book cover. My weapon against this world of aliens.