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I am forever left wondering what the line between amateur literature I will not touch with ten-foot pole, and amateur literature I will actually read is.
Like. Genuinely what is the line. Especially since the former STILL gets me with sunk-cost fallacy moments.
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I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that my younger self was a FOOL for losing the notebooks with my literature notes I took growing up. Memory is fleeting construct, and I cannot believe I thought myself capable enough to rely on instincts and vibes.
Currently reading watching a trope happen in slow motion like one does with a crash. I cannot decide if I should be laughing or crying.
All I know is: congratulations main character! You've played yourself. You have read thousands of romance novels, and you still think you pull off the: I must die/vanish and return to complete my mission, surely the person I'm in love with will be able to move forward in life as long as I leave a note! (The note is actually optional in this trope.)
No, no. Now you have a blackened love interest. Actually, even if the situation on their end was strictly platonic—you would still have a blackened second male lead.
