Missing my books

Is it odd that I miss my books? Probably.

I've loaned out my top two favorite books to a couple of my friends and I kind of feel like a piece of me is missing.

Jane Eyre - Out of every book I've ever read, this one has touched me the most. I've read it more often than any other book, and I know the story, and some of the passages, by heart. I read it when I'm bored. I read it when I have nothing else to read. I read it when I can't sleep. I read it when I can't stop crying. I read it when I'm lonely. I read it when I'm confused. I read it when I just need a good story. I read it when I need to be distracted. I read it when I'm happy. I read it when I'm feeling romantic. I read it. A lot.

I needed Jane Eyre last night. Maybe my eyelids wouldn't have been as swollen and puffy this morning.

Crime and Punishment - While this is a new favorite, I still had an instant connection to the story, the characters, and the ideas. I feel like there's so much more to get out of its pages. I love to crack it open and read Dostoevsky's heart-wrenching and thrilling passages. I love to feel a little bit crazy. I love to feel a little bit compassionate. I love the theme of redemption and suffering.

Books are my joy. My coping mechanism. My escape from my life. My intellectual stimulation. My constant companion.