Not Me

     I know something changed when I love my books more than ever, for I never actually feel THAT affectionate about being surrounded by books. Yes, I love reading, I love collecting books, I could spend hours in the library or places with lots'a book, but never THIS much. It feels like something changed, since I look at books quite differently now. It becomes something that I need more than anything else. Something that I hold dear, something that is so precious that I can never seem to let go. And by that, I know something is wrong with me.

     It's not that I love books more than ever that seems strange, but the sudden changes. Because I started liking books as a getaway, I read to absorb myself into a different surrounding, kind-of "leaving the world behind". That's not an uncommon thing. For almost every people feel the same. But now, my world has changed quite a lot. I'm happy. At least, I think I am happy. My friend said I can be quite naive, and be blinded about my own feelings, so I don't know really. But I SHOULD be happy, for my life have taken a turn to something I have always hoped for.

     But why does it feel so....'draining'? And why do I need my books more than ever now?

     I feel so strained, like I'm not myself. The mood swings are getting worse than ever. One time I'm happy and all, and the next thing I know there's this big hole inside my heart, leaving me empty. Then I would start getting angry at everything, mainly because I don't know what to feel, and I blame other people for it.

     But why? I don't know. Why am I not happy even after I get the things I wanted?? Why is this me right here, still want to get away?

     I would be okay with my sudden obssession over books if I don't feel so empty when I'm not reading. I feel so much emotion every time I read. The book somehow kinda 'came to life'. It's a pleasant feeling, actually. I could be the main character of the book, like when I read Anne of Green Gables yesterday, I could feel the ups and downs of Anne emotions, vividly imagine what she imagined, actually got absorbed to the book so much that the 'real world' is not much of a thing. It's great, it's a thrilling experience. 

But I felt nothing when it ends. It's like I only feel what was written.  I've lost senses, and mind, of myself.