I’ve recently been into reading, but I’m trying to have some moderation over it in a way that I don’t read another book immediately after I finish one. I also try to drift on somewhat different genres, when I get the chance. I don’t really want to drown myself with romantic novels, though most of my copies are of that type, if not subtly on it. It’s actually kind of hard to find a novel that has nothing to do with love and I don’t really have the appetite for zombie, vampire and ghost stories, so that’s that. I go from pure romance to family-related ones.
So anyway, what I’m saying here is that yes, I’ve been reading romantic novels that I am now having a love-hate relationship with. I get into this situation wherein I’d feel all hopeful about love and how I even imagine myself being the *insert girl’s-name-on-all-the-books-I’ve-read here*, but then I’d switch into feeling hopeless because as much as I want to believe in them, it’s pretty obvious that they’re all just written on paper and/or made as an epub file that I read through my iPod touch. You know, new era begets ebooks.
It’s nice how books can actually uplift your dying hope on love with just the right mixture of words and thought on how a bad situation can actually turn into something so realistically well or great. For a little while it would last. Maybe even a few weeks if you get the hangover I get most of the time, but of course, who are we kidding here? The more the hangover gets to you, the more it hits you that you are living and what you’re thinking of is just something you’ve read. A product of a writer’s imagination, or if they’re the lucky ones, from their experience. Lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice. It’s just me but I’d like to think the saying fits the topic, how a kind of story may never happen again with someone else.
But hey, I wouldn’t actually want a story same with those I’ve read. I’d go for something that may not be as romantic as the novels, but I’d be darn proud to talk about cos it’s true and my own. Something that I had never thought of. Something that just came and happened, that I can call my favorite story of all. Despite the love and hate feeling that I get with reading, I may never stop myself from doing so. While my love story’s still being written and that part of my life is still on idle, I’d like to think that at least I’m pretty sure that I haven’t lost the ability to feel all that life may carry and drop on me every once in awhile. That I haven’t completely given up on love cos I still yearn for more each time, even at least on books for the meantime. Like, something to keep me sane, maybe.