When the world feels too new, I go back to stories that already know me.

 Lately, I've found myself rereading old books instead of reaching for new ones. Stories I already know. Endings that don't surprise me. Characters who feel like familiar rooms I can sit in quietly.

It's not that I've stopped loving new stories... it's that newness feels loud these days. Unpredictable. A little too much. Old books offer something softer, certainty. I know where the pain comes, where it settles, and how it heals. There's comfort in that predictability.

Psychology actually has a name for this. When life feels uncertain or emotionally overstimulating, the brain seeks cognitive safety. Familiar narratives reduce mental load, lower anxiety, and give us a sense of control. Rereading isn’t escapism.. it's regulation. A way of telling the nervous system, "You're safe here."

So yes, I'm rereading. Not because I'm stuck in the past.. but because sometimes, healing looks like choosing what you already trust.