For example, the aspect of 'I must finish this, why haven't I finished yet- finish thisssss' was very much hitting my head repeatedly, but I felt incomplete. I wasn't exactly lost, yet I didn't feel like I was following the trail depicted in said imaginary map. I saw the plot of this novel as a sort of convoluted map of a sort. The storyline for this book followed a girl that had fortunately escaped a kidnapping attempt, to then be thought of as a faker by everyone, including local authorities. So even though I didn't go into this completely blind, I was slightly crossing the path with a cane and a bad eye. *metaphorical bombs explode in the distance, raining dramatic hellfire*įirstly, let me get out of the way (before I stupidly drive into it over and over again), the fact that I forgot all about the synopsis. I don't think I loved this book as much as I thought I did. See, at first I was sure it was a great read.Īs much as I can possibly analyze a book, I read so quickly I think my neurons gave up halfway.Īnd in that interval of miserable time when I forced myself to use my gray matter (read: kindly threatened the upstairs department of cognitive development), I realized something quite important: (I found my problem with this book, it was the end) (I may sound like I hated the book, but I promise that's just how my alter ego is acting like)
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