The Company Of Books

Hey Stalkers,

So here’s the problem.

I’m lonely.

Don’t get me wrong, I have friends. But not friends I can talk to. You know?

I’ve noticed that since I’ve gotten a phone (a few months ago) I’ve been so miserable and so much lonelier. Oh the irony. You’d think that with a phone I’d have easier access to people to talk to. Not a chance. It feels even worse. At least before, if I were lonely, there was an excuse for people not being able to get hold of me and such. Now I have a phone there is no excuse. If I’m lonely, it’s simply because no one wants to talk to me.

I manage to escape the abyss of isolation through books usually, I just read myself some company or draw myself some company. However, I haven’t been drawing much as of lately and no book seems to last me eternity; I get so obsessed, so infatuated, that I usually finish my books within two or three days. And then there’s that gap.

That hell-like gap that never seems to end.

That gap in between finishing my current book and waiting for my next reserved library book to arrive.

No imaginary fictional characters to keep me company. God. I can’t bear those moments. It’s like waiting at a London train station, alone, in silence, in the dark of night. You always wish there was a friend there waiting with you, so you can be frightened together or laugh away the fear away together – depends on what kind of person you are. And then, in that transition, when I’m waiting for my train, my next book, that I just feel so alone.

I just want a friend who I can call anytime. Not just text, texting is awful because I’d like to see a person’s facial expression and admire their beautiful appearance and at the very least hear the tone of their voice. So I know it’s real. So I know they’re actually bothered and want to talk to me. So I know I’m not alone.


I’d like to have weird conversations with them:

“Do you think cats are assholes on purpose?”

“Hey! I like cats! I have three, you know!”

“Didn’t they pee in your school shoes?”

….“Cat’s are such assholes, right!?”



And I’d like to have stupid arguments too:

“I love the way the author of A Separate Peace described Finny’s death!”

“No way! That was too apathetic and cold! How can you like that?”

“What do you mean? That’s the whole point! It was apathetic because it was like part of him had died!What did you even read!?”

“What did you even read!?”

and each argument would end in laughter or with us just ‘agreeing to disagree’.


Perhaps I’m expecting too much? But I feel so empty, so alone, I’m deprived of company. I’m feeling so sad and alone and desperate an-

Oh my books arrived!

Okay, bye

See you in a few days,

– Love Aery

(Seriously though, if I had a friend like that, I would either put my book down, or bring my book to that friend so we could read each page together. But for now I suppose, the books are my friends.)



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