Today, I Cried.

I'm one of "those people" who reads a lot of books.

And when I say a lot, I mean like I would rather not speak to anyone for an entire afternoon and just read a 500 page novel.

Since I moved to the boonies, I don't have internet, cable, or cell phone service. That said, I have been spending my days and nights ripping through books.

And loving every second of it.

I'm a total bookworm; I don't deny it. One day last week, I read two books. One being My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult and Tiny, Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed. The first one lengths in 400+ pages whereas the second maybe around 250 pages. So we're looking at 650+ pages of words that were processed into my brain in one day.

And yet.

For Christmas, my best friend Ben Rathman gave me this book I'd been asking for. I fell in love with the lyrical and poetic quotes from it I had seen on the internet.

"I fell in love the way you fall asleep; slowly, then all at once."
"My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations."

And yet!

I dove into The Fault In Our Stars, by John Green, the minute it was handed to me. My brain was yearning to drink in the beautiful words this man had crafted. As a New York Times Best Seller, I knew it would be better than I thought.

And yet, at first, it wasn't.

I found myself thoroughly disappointed with the quirky and smart-ass language of the main characters. I felt like their humor was fake, and not what seventeen-year-olds would actually be saying, thinking or doing. My head was puzzled how John Green reached the status of a New York Times Best Selling Author with this novel. I was sad.

But I didn't give up on it. I kept reading, in hopes it would unfold into a beautiful teenage love story of this girl with terminal cancer and her gorgeous boyfriend who never gave up on her. And it was, but it wasn't grabbing me like the books I read usually do. I set the novel down for a few weeks. I came back to it in February, and set it down again for awhile. Today, I picked it up again.

I'm one of those people who doesn't cry in moments when crying makes sense. Funerals, graduations, sad movies. Nope, I'm one of those lifeless robots who sits there and looks like a heartless moron because my tear ducts refuse to work.

But tonight, I finished it. And tonight, for the first time, I cried while reading a book. I felt the tears start to burn in the back of my eyes around chapter twenty. By the time I reached chapter twenty-four, there they were. Full fledged waterworks; running mascara down my cheeks and all.

When I came to the ending, I was surprised it was over. It didn't seem like a normal place to end. But finally, after I re-read the last page, I understood why this novel was so loved and so... GOOD. I felt guilty for doubting it in those first few weeks of reading, and the months I neglected it. I can only be thankful that I decided to pick it up and finish it, because it turned out to be as beautiful and wonderful as I originally anticipated it to be.

If you are reading this and feeling somewhat disappointed because this post is unlike my others, sorry. But, if you're reading this and understanding... all I can say is, Book Nerds, UNITE.