The thing about reading.

I very much remember when the Twilight saga was all anyone could talk about. My sister included: she’d count down the days until the next movie came out and talk annoyingly and constantly about these so called characters “Edward and Jacob” and I would only half listen and roll my eyes to clearly exhibit my lack of interest. Let’s face it: I’m a judge-a-book-by-it’s-cover kinda girl or more so, in this case, a judge-a-story-by-the-brief-description-everyone’s-associating-with-it kinda girl. In this case vampires and werewolves weren’t exactly my cup of tea–so I thought.

For a peculiar reason, of which I’m not exactly sure of myself, I very recently decided to read the books. I borrowed them from my friend Anne and within the time it took me to read the first few pages I decided that I would have to apologize to a lot of people for judging them so harshly. And by the time I finished the first book the epic saga is all I could think of, all I could dream about and tried to further my skills of doing anything and everything I could one-handed and with limited concentration to ensure that I didn’t have to put the book down. I had a serious problem. *sigh* I’ve spent every spare minute I have through out the day and have been depriving myself of precious hours of sleep so I can read these effing books. And I’ve decided that THIS is why I don’t read: it’s exhausting.