After all, how could I be happy when real boys don’t even come close to comparing with Edward, Jace, or Cedric?
Making time for a quick read has become harder in the past year. All of a sudden, reading isn’t a pleasure anymore, it’s a chore.
Ever hear of “literature”? That means fiction, too, stupid.
You’re far enough into the story that you just want to shout it from the rooftops! YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH A BOOK!
Whether you’re on your couch, on the plane, at the office – wherever you are, once you start reading, your surroundings fall away.
It’s easy to feel alone in this world, people walk around with a façade that life is merry and there isn’t a care in the world while their soul screams for help or someone to just notice them and ask them if they’re okay.
Papertowns and Looking for Alaska, by John Green, have both made me realize that I’m not the only one feeling lost in this world.
Some books begin softly, with the paddle of assurance, like slipping into a warm lake at the edge of dark. Other books do not begin that way. They begin un-calmly, with threats, warnings, rumors of distant war.
I realized that reading was actually toxic for me. I get so lost in this dream-like state that I refuse to be settled back in my own true world.