I hate finishing books. I really do. And I hate not having anything to read or being interrupted while I'm reading.
I just get to absorbed when I read. I get lost somewhere else and for a few hours, I'm a part of the book. I slip out of reality.
And then the book ends. I'm left with nothing except the harsh reality that it's all fictional and it will never happen to me.
I finished This Lullaby by Sarah Dessen last night. This book had an especially bad effect on me when I was done with it because the main character was SO much like me. She was sarcastic and over-organized and she didn't believe in love and she was trying to change. And of course by the end of the book, everything's perfect. But I never get my happy ending. I can always relate to the characters all the way up until the end, because they always live happily-ever-after and that never happens in real life.
I sound like a big baby.
I don't care.

I can't believe January's almost over. It's going to quickly. Things need to slow down.

"This was the way the old me worked, living just for the next second, hour, wanting only to have a boy want me for a night, no more. I'd changed. I'd quit that along with smoking-okay, one lapse-and drinking-for the most part. But the sleeping around thing, that I'd held true to. Completely. And I'd been ready to throw it away..." -This Lullaby, Sarah Dessen