You know that feeling when you finish reading a good book and a little bit of you dies inside?

Today, in what felt like the longest time ever, I was finally able to go home without a constant and nagging agenda at the back of my mind, or the need to rush to places. I actually could finally go home early while the afternoon sun was up, no school stuff, no outstanding homework, no anything.

So I took a small break and I didn't head home immediately upon reaching my stop. I went into popular and spent 2 hours there at the best-sellers section. I read through almost every summary written on the back of the books to see how it got onto best-selling. And also the many rows of books such as self-help, autobiography, novels and such. I browse through every book without a plastic wrap around it, and read about the horrors of child abuse and violence. I read about pre-war and wartime stories. I read deception point and badly wanted to add it into my collection of Dan Brown books, but I placed it back onto the shelf once I saw the price.

Simply put, I was torn, because I want to buy every single one of these books back home.

In the end, I splurged on a John Green book because the words "now a major motion picture" appealed to me. (and also I felt that I could really use a book that's more narrative than factual right now.) I spent the remaining day reading it and cried at some parts (what even) and I felt really sad that it ended. Day well spent.

There's a choir performance tomorrow as well! Hyped! :)