I was writing to a friend this morning, talking about how this past week has been pretty decent–almost completely without that crushing weight that frequently makes my life feel relentless and untenable. Then I went on to say I was two hours away from the end of Ready Player One, and as eager as I was to finish it, I was anticipating how sad I’d be when it was over.
And then I thought, I wonder if this past week has been so bearable, because I was reading this great book that offered me another world I could escape to?
I honestly think the two are completely related.
I know I’m going to finish Ready Player One tonight, and my husband won’t be home when that happens. I’m absolutely anticipating a very real feeling of loneliness when it’s over and I’m sitting there alone. Sometimes, when I’m really into a good book, and I finally finish it, I feel the kind of sad you feel when someone you care about moves away. Like there is a very real hole left in your life, an absence that pains you, and you want desperately to fill it.
Am I painting myself the sad, social outcast? Perhaps. But it’s the way I feel. It’s my truth. It probably means I need more friends, but I already know this. And honestly, I don’t mind falling so head over heels for a book that I feel like I’ve lost something, or someone, when it’s over.
It’s such a strange feeling, to want to keep reading, and yet be dreading the moment when it’s over, a mixture or elation and heartsickness, all at once.
Anticipating the end of Ready Player One, I’m requesting book recommendations. Something I can lose myself into for another week or so. A book that can be my good friend while I’m reading it.
Am I the only one who feels lonely and sad when she finishes a good book?
Can you recommend something amazing to me?