Some of you might know that I studied English literature and creative writing at uni. I love stories, books, language... yet I rarely read.
I wondered why. So- I picked up a book and decided to remind myself of how great reading is.
And couldn't stop. After putting in some serious hours to finish every book in the series, I searched out another story- images, emotions, characters, events needed to keep flowing through my mind.
I finished my last book at 4:30am. I'm sleep deprived. A little bit cranky. I can't stop thinking about the characters, continuing the story to myself. And I'm looking for another book to start.
I need my life back.
I'm so like my mum.
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