on the anger that sometimes accompanies reading

I really love reading. Some people don’t like reading, and I don’t understand that. I think books are amazing – that these random arrangements of 26 different letters on several pieces of paper bound together between two pieces of cardboard have the ability to transport the reader into a different place, a different time, a different dimension – in my opinion that’s nothing short of magical. I devour books. All books, too – not only novels. I love poetry and biographies and how-to’s and history and textbooks and it really doesn’t matter what I’m reading, as long as it’s something stimulating and engaging. Obviously there are books in all of these categories that are not well-written and thus not enjoyable to read, but for the most part I find great joy in reading.

I read more when I was homeschooled/before I discovered that music is a thing, but being home for the summer now with no job on the horizon and nothing really to do with my time, I’ve settled back into my routine of reading everything I can get my hands on. I’ve been home 10 days now and so far I’ve averaged a book a day – I burned through the Harry Potter series [for the millionth time [although I started the first book while I was at school so maybe it doesn’t count]] and just finished the Divergent trilogy [I had read the first two books before but only just had the opportunity to read Allegiant].

Some books, though, no matter how well written, make me angry. And that’s the real point of this post, because it is 1 am and therefore unacceptable for me to scream in rage because apparently my family goes to bed before midnight. Therefore I’m going to write everything down very calmly in an attempt to soothe my heart, which is full of hatred and bloodlust and anger.

I literally just finished Allegiant three minutes ago, and although I didn’t really expect a happy ending from a dystopian trilogy, I was expecting more ambiguity than outright sadness. My highest priority right now is to hunt down Veronica Roth and murder her viciously in her sleep talk to her about the trauma that must have occurred in her past to prompt her to introduce such a horrible twist on the story. And I’m being super vague because I know that next to nobody reads this blog but if the few stragglers who do read it happen to be in the middle of the trilogy I really don’t want to spoil anything for them [but if anyone has in fact finished Allegiant and knows of the great tragedy to which I am referring, I would love to yell at you about it for an hour or two some time]. Blegh. Warhejkhfs. Whysoidjhsd.

[currently listening: boy & bear//southern sun]


2 responses to “on the anger that sometimes accompanies reading

    • That’s the series I want to start on next but I don’t know if my heart can handle all that death. Still, I’ve been around the internet long enough to know that I won’t be short of sympathizers 🙂


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