Once upon a time, I was sitting in my room reading a good book on a peaceful summer afternoon when I finished the last chapter of the book that absolutely broke my heart. I re-read the last page over and over until the words where beginning to blend together. I shut the book closed and threw it across my 12x10 room and started crying. I thought to myself, "How is it possible for a piece of literature to do this to someone?". I was hysterical. Feelings of rage and heartbreak were coursing through my veins when suddenly, my door opened. In came my little sister, mouth agape to see me curled up into a ball soaked in tears. I thought, How could she be fine when I'm reading this depressing book? I was hit with a wave of jealousy that she wasn't even able to read and experience my "book hangover". Before I could think about the sentence about to leave my mouth, I shouted, "WHAT DO YOU WANT!? GET OUT!!". She shut the door and ran to the one person who I could not EVER sympathize with. My mom. My mother and sister came barreling through the door and my mom yelled at me for being rude. I got what I deserved for being jealous towards a person who couldn't even read. To this day, I still read heartbreaking books but remember to cry for only ten minutes. And lock my door. The end.
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