I’m reading a lot of books recently. Too many, probably. Yes, there is such thing. Because it’s like addiction, it’s escape, it’s what makes me alive and numb at the same time. It makes me feel what I don’t, and it helps me forget what I feel.
I don’t read unhappy books. I don’t want drama or tragedy. I want happy book, love, devotion, sugar and sweets and roses and romance and happy ever after. I don’t care if it’s not real. If it’s not life. I appreciate that it’s not life. Life hurts too much.
And now I’ve come across a book that is all that, but at the same time it’s shocking how painful it is. The heroine had so much in common with me. She was bleeding all the time. She was in relationship with someone she wasn’t sure she loved. She met someone and fell in love and decided not to be with him, because he wanted children she could not give him. She had this crisis mode, when she detached herself to operate, when the world was falling apart around her.
How it hurt to see her…
But the most painful part? “His choice was still me. He never gave up.” That’s one of things I could not relate to. And the one that hurt the most.
Damn.
Alenka H., 2021