sad sad sad ending.
i do so love to read, if i could make a living outta it, i wouldn’t be having all these existentialist crises now. even more than i love to sing or love to paint, i love to read. it’s something that’ll stay with me all my life i hope, my utmost pleasure, to delve into the worlds derived from the imaginations of others and for the few hours of being immersed in lines and lines of text, i am no longer myself, but a spectator engrossed in another universe all together, fascinated and drawn into made up people who feel so real, into heartbreaking endings that shouldn’t concern or affect me at all, but the effect lingers; sort of like waking up in the midst of a vivid technicolor dream, only after a few heartbeats passes then does familiarity resume and along with it, my present self.
the ending of the book is just so heart-achingly sad 🙁
and like what shakespeare said before,
All the world’s a stage
And all the men and women merely players.
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts…
so many ironies in life. God must be one helluva script writer…