Brace yourselves, readers. You're entering a blog with belligerent rants/reviews, chaotic writings, incompetent; pointless fangirling... and, oh yeah, GIFS. Fuckloads of them... did I also mention some swearing? I'm an eighteen-year-old girl majoring in Theatre Arts. I may not be an excellent writer, but gosh, I love doing it.
About three things I was absolutely positive. First, books and college made me broke. Second, there was a part of books -- and I didn't know how potent that part might be -- that coaxed me to read them. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with books (and food).
"And so the human fell in love with a book..."
"What a stupid book."
"What a sick, masochistic human."
Books are peaceful, life is harder.
Me to a book, "You are my life now."
Surely it was a good way to die, in a place surrounded by my books, surrounded by the stories I loved.
Book to me: "What if I'm not a good book, what if I'm a shitty one?"
Me in reply: "You're not. But I can see that it's just to keep people away from you. It's a cover."