r-e-s-p-e-c-t

tonight i finished altas shrugged. a feat that took almost two months and covered over 1000 pages.

besides basking in my dedication of finishing such a monster of a book. i still had the normal bitter-sweet feelings of completing a novel. finally knowing how it all ends but also coming to grips with the fact that you indeed know how the book ends and it will never quite be the same. sure you could read it again but you will probably never feel the rush of trying to guess what happens silently willing the author to write the novel how you see it working out-knowing you will be disappointed if it really is that predictable and realizing how perfect the story is when it goes completely opposite of what you had imagined.

while in the midst of relishing in a book well worth the pain and struggle, i came out of the hole i have been in for the past two weeks (i have been reading it longer than two weeks but the further i got the less i went out) to interact with actual people. a clear mistake on my part especially in my weakened condition.

i began talking to a friend of mine who had also just finished the book and understood what i was going through and we were talking about how it ended and the things we liked or disliked knowing it didn't matter because the book was perfect. when another person butted in asking "holly, did you just finish?' Can i borrow your book? everyone is talking about it. i want to read it too. can i have it?"

i just stared not wanting to believe what i had just heard. give it some time. let the book rest in peace. show some respect. i did not want someone to read MY book. the book i had just spent heavens knows how many hours reading. the book i carried around in my purse for weeks. the book i was still mulling over. the book i put so much into. touching my pages. what if the book was mistreated or unfairly dog-eared?

it felt like those Christmases where you get the perfect gift and you just want to stare and look and hold your new treasure when your greedy snatchy cousin rips it out of your hands and begins to play with it. not knowing how many times you begged your mom for that gift, or tried countlessly to save up for it but never could, even writing the big man himself, SC, constantly.
And your greedy cousin ruined your moment of triumph.

that is how i felt. what had she done to deserve my book? why was she suddenly interested in my book? it was not because she was interested in the book itself, but in the fact that others were wanting to read it.

she stared back at me and all i could manage to say was... i want it back at the end of the semester. heartbroken. she mentioned something about not having anything else to read assuming it would be an easy task to give it back at the end of the semester. she missed what i was implying. i wanted it back whether she was done or not. mostly implying that she would not be done.

luckily she did not pursue me to my room and my book is still by my side. safe.