Cover to Cover



It's comforting to know that there's always something that I can go back to when everything else fails. Like a home or something. Like some kind of way to cope with my reality. Now that is the most positive thing you can get out of me at this moment.

Excuse my cynicism. When I was a kid, I didn't like other kids. And there were no cellphones yet. No mindlessly scrolling on social media. So how did I manage to kill time and escape the pain of it all? Books. Oh thank Gawd for books. Time passed by so quickly and here I am again. I admit the characters in those books are even better than humans. They are more relatable, more compassionate, more loving. I guess I just needed a hug.

These days though I find myself going back to basics. I don't have TV. I hate waiting for a ring or message notification from people who obviously don't acknowledge my existence. Okay, fine, the feeling is mutual. I hate going out only to see strangers who give me enormous anxiety. So I need to find a way out of my mind. A way out of this crazy, fucking mind. I have this new obsession with possessing certain kind of books. Books I can relate to. Books with unlikeable and unhinged women protagonists. Characters who have it all and yet still not enough. You know, diabolic women.

I guess it all started with Sylvia Plath's Bell Jar. I read it, I loved it. I gave the book to my best friend who passed away. He didn't like the fact that the character was weak and tried to die by suicide. My friend, being privileged, was a fan of living. I don't understand it at all. He taught me how to be materialistic. He taught me to live for beauty. And yet he died. Those who want to live die and those who desperately want to get to the other side live. Life is unfair.

My friend wanted me to go back to books too especially when there's nothing else anymore. So I managed to get my hands on this a bit controversial and weird book called "My Year of Rest and Relaxation". The cover is an old painting of a woman and the colors are strikingly feminine. I did not understand the hype at first but when I started reading it, I couldn't put it down. I finished the book quickly and time just passed by. What a way to spend my waking hours. This should be my new life.

I could totally relate to this weird character. I mean my Gawd, wouldn't it be great if you are that privileged enough to get continuous supply of sleeping pills so you can escape the ills of the world for a couple of months? Or have access to the worst psychiatrist in the world who will prescribe you with various drugs. The female character is crazy and downright apathetic. I do believe such personality can exist in the real world too (ehem). I guess the main point here is to shock the readers. I wasn't shock at all, I mean, what she's doing should be possible. Dying for a year should be normal.

Sleep, sleep, sleep. Sometimes it's all I need. Little moments of death that can make me unconscious and oblivious. The character thought she could sleep for a year and wake up with a new life and a newfound appreciation for the living things. I mean at least there was hope in there. I remember my friend telling me not to read such distressing books and to be careful of what I'm putting inside my mind, because I can become that character. When you stare at the monster long enough you become the monster. But I would have asked my friend to read this book too. I am dying for his opinion. I miss him terribly at this time of the night. But soon I will sleep.

Anyway, it was a great journey reading this book and I'm still on a look out for something as trippy as this. I would be reviewing more books and post my thoughts here. I guess from now on, just like that unnamed character, I will pass my time like this. Sleeping and reading books cover to cover until I can't make sense of the days anymore.