December 29th - Bird song.

The feeling I get when I’ve finished a book is the saddest feeling in the world, as if I’ve lost a friend. I can’t cry, I only sit there feeling all wrong for a while before deciding to carry on. But I can’t, really. It feels a bit like I might never see things the way I’m supposed to again. It’s that deep, creeping kind of sadness that you feel when something’s come to its end. And then everything looks different. The light coming in the window is something wholly different than it was yesterday. Everything feels a bit sad, like the final shot of a beautiful film. Everything feels oddly quiet and tranquil, a bit at peace. But still so, so sad. Is there really a way to describe it?

It’s the feeling you get when you wake up the morning after a night with friends and realize you’re not in your own bed and you must go home. The light feels too bright and you wish time hadn’t passed so quickly. Or when you say goodbye to your childhood home, and though you’ve spent weeks searching every crevice for memories you might hold on to, it’s still not enough, and you feel homesick like you never have before.

What a terrible, terrible feeling.