I draw silly things because I’m mourning for a book, a book that has destroyed my poor little heart.

It’s not the first time a book hurts my soul, but I’m pretty sure I haven’t been this in pain like I am now. And I’m kind of afraid, because I’m a hopeless romantic, I like some angst but in the end I believe love (any kind of true love) is the goal, the answer, the path to follow.

But what if the books end… bad…? Would I be able to find cold comfort on fanfics? On art? Will I have an eternal little thorn hammered in my heart?

I don’t know, I’m not sure.

Do you know when you’re in love, so so much in love that your whole chest seems to be crushing itself? In love for people who don’t exist but that are real in your mind anyways, people you find yourself thinking about, people who could make you smile but also weep.

And between books, a very long wait until next year, I am mourning.