Confession #14

“Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book…(Then again) Books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal.” The fault in our stars, John Green.

When I read Khaled Hosseini’s A Thousand Splendid Suns, I realized; John Green said the exact true words. I was convinced actually, telling everyone I know to read this incredible book that I just finished and I was literally detached from the universe, was utterly lost in the story that Khaled Hosseini created. I’ve never been so touched by anything regarding books or sad movies. I never really shed tears reading books. But this one made me cry. Tears rolled down my eyes. I cried for the characters of the book- Mariam and Laila whom are fictional, non-existents. I hadn’t even cried that much in my grandma’s funeral. But I cried to their grieve. Like I’m related to them or something. I felt like I’d lived through their good and bad days.    

Then I felt an urge to recommend that book to my sister. To my friend. I wanted them to feel what I felt reading this book last night. The tragedies that life can behold. I wanted them to feel it, with me. But then I was stunned by my own foolishness that they won’t actually feel the same like me. They wouldn’t even read it with patience or get to know the treasures hidden in it. They wouldn’t feel the things I felt, they wouldn’t cry on the parts I once cried my heart out. And that’s okay. No one would ever understand what the book made me feel. And advertising my affection for it, like John Green said, wouldn't actually make it more special and rare itself.