I can’t even tell you how many times I wish I could say this to the people telling me I have not found the ‘right one’ or I didn’t ‘love them enough’
I’ve never been so entirely engrossed by a novel before.
The whole premise is that there is always hope and that everything will be okay eventually.
But it’s so easy to just gloss over those moments and fall into what the majority of the content of the book is about: loss and longing and loneliness. I’ve never related so deeply to a character, every narration striking some emotional chord or memory within me, my cheeks never having the chance to dry before tearing up again.
And so I’m left here feeling utterly decimated thinking about how my own relationships (or lack thereof) are just apart of some “Failed Boyfriend Checklist” laid out by Nick Alexander and all I have to look forward to is reaching the end so I can trudge on, still alone, but at least I’m all the wiser for it?
I don’t know. I should have saved this type of depressive introspection for the weekend when I can afford the luxury of not going outside or dealing with other people for a few days.