when my life gets especially lost and out of control, i tend to collect thing.
this time around, it's books. now, i go through phases with books. i find one book that i eat up and i get obsessed and read eight in a row- until i find one that doesn't sit with me well and i stop. i get nervous around giving myself so unconditionally to a world that i suddenly can't trust. but then it comes around again, where i miss losing myself and i'm lost in my books.
my friends joke and send me list of books, asking me how many i've read, knowing i've read almost all of them. almost all of them are classics, which are my favourite.
but this past month and a half has been really really hard on me... and i can't wait to get back into a make believe world that comforts me and accepts me.
i have a (small) collection going on. here is my list:
agatha christie's (i have a huge thing for her- i read all of poirot's mysteries and nothing else) the hollow, the labors of hercules, five little pigs, three blind mice & one two buckle my shoe.
john steinbeck's of mice and men
kathleen grissom's the kitchen house
neil gaiman's the ocean at the end of the lane
v.c andrews' flowers in the attic & petals on the wind
charles dickens' great expectations
daphne de maurier's rebecca
susanna kaysen's girl, interrupted
jeffrey eugenides' the virgin suicides
john green's looking for alaska
currently reading: ned vizzini's it's kind of a funny story
i hope to eat these up while my life just get's crazier and crazier and i can get some peace. any favourites up there? any recommendations?
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