Annotating Books: Where My Love for Reading Met My Love for Art

It started simply: underlining a quote that hit too hard to ignore. Then came a tab. Then a highlighter. Then a small, scribbled thought in the margin.

And just like that, I fell in love with annotating.

Books have always been personal to me. But when I started adding color to the pages, they became even more mine. Annotating wasn’t just about remembering things. It was about responding to the story. Feeling it. Creating alongside it.

There was a time when people didn’t believe I actually read as much as I did. I’d hear things like, “You finished that already?” or “You’re just skimming, right?” It stung. But instead of arguing, I started annotating. Not to prove anything — but to show how deeply I was engaging. How I didn’t just read books. I lived in them.

At some point, my love for art and my love for reading began to merge. I started picking colors that matched the book covers. Cool tones for sad stories. Brights for adventures. Pastels for soft, slow-burn romances. I created annotation keys: one color for character growth, one for quotes I loved, another for plot twists. It was like designing a visual language for how the book made me feel.

Over time, my stationery collection grew — from one lonely yellow highlighter to full boxes of sticky tabs in every shade imaginable. But here’s the thing: I don’t annotate every book. I only buy physical copies of the ones I already love, the ones I’ve read before and can’t stop thinking about. Those books are special. I get them just so I can annotate — to mark every feeling, every moment that hit hard, every word that felt like it was written just for me. That way, I walk into the story already knowing where the gold is buried, ready to color it in.

Annotating became a ritual. A slow, intentional, joyful act. Not just for memory, but for expression. Not to show off, but to show up for the stories that mattered to me.

So if you ever see my bookshelf, you’ll find books that are highlighted, scribbled on, tabbed, and bursting with color. And in every one of them, you’ll find pieces of me.

My love for stories. My love for color. My love for making art out of the things that move me.

It’s a little messy. It’s a little magical. And it’s all mine.