No Country for Old Men

I started reading this book about 9:30 this morning. Intended to take an hour, ended up finally finishing it around 12:05.

I feel like crying. I just want to sit for the rest of the day and not do or say or think anything, but just cry a little. It's a feeling like you've been punched in the chest for no good reason except that you believed the world was an okay place but it's really not, and I could say a bunch of self-indulgent pretentious things here, but what good would it do?

I mean, I like reading things that make me feel, but I think I got a bit more than I bargained for here. And it's not like a fullness of feeling, it's like a sheer empty wasteland of feeling. It takes your feels out in the desert and guns them down in cold blood then comes back and kicks you in the teeth for having feels in the first place, how dare you.

I need to go hug some puppies or something. On a side note, the movie was an incredibly good adaptation.

Not sure what else to say. Just kinda feel like I've lost something I didn't even know I had.