Last night, as I finished reading the last words of the novel “Me Before You” by Jojo Moyes, I found myself teary eyed, with tears streaming down my face, moved by this heartbreakingly beautiful novel that weaved an unconventional love story. I felt silly at my own crying. I mean, why am I so emotionally invested in fictional characters? It’s only a story for god’s sake!<\/p>\n
To be honest, I was surprised at my own reaction. Yet, I was also glad. Because it meant that words could still move me. I have missed the state of being lost in a novel. The state where you can’t seem to put down the book, reading late into the night, willing your eyelids and brains to stay awake to absorb the words on the page. The state where you would make use of every spare minute to sneak in a paragraph or two before you are forced to close the book again to get on with work or some daily task that needs your attention. Good fiction does that to you.<\/p>\n
Crying actually meant I wasn’t a hard, cynical bitch when it came to love. Yet. Haha. No, actually I’m a closet romantic. I still enjoy reading or hearing a good love story, secretly hoping in the depths of my heart that maybe I’d have my own good love story to tell one day…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Last night, as I finished reading the last words of the novel “Me Before You” by Jojo Moyes, I found myself teary eyed, with tears streaming down my face, moved by this heartbreakingly beautiful novel that weaved an unconventional love … Continue reading