(Make sure you read Part One of the story. It will make everything a little clearer.)
I decided to sit down and start counting all my books.
When my “friends” decided to attack me and call me an addict, it genuinely hurt. I thought that they loved me for me, the way that I am. Me and all my books. How could they say that the things that made me happy were slowly destroying me? Could books have that kind of power? Continue reading “Books, Books, And More Books – Part Two”