tighten up.

The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion has been on my list for a while now. There are obvious reasons (to some) as to why I would want to read this book, and obvious reasons as to why it took me until my roommate brought it home to actively make an effort to read it. I was nervous and scared (scared? of a book? yes, it’s true). Yesterday I started to read the book on the way to my internship when I realized I couldn’t handle the book. Not at 9 in the morning, at least. I attempted it on the way home at 5pm, but still… I could not handle the book. It’s weird to think after 6 years it still hurts as much as it did after 2 years. After only forty pages read out of the book, I would already recommend it simply because every emotion she has expressed thus far is accurate down to a T. It’s startling to read.