Trilogy

For weeks now, I've been putting off finishing The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. It's not because I'm lazy, it's not because I've been busy (I have), it's not because I'm reading magazines instead (though, where is my new issue of Real Simple, U.S. Postal Service? I think that you stole it), and it's not because I'm watching too much crap tv.

I just didn't want it all to end.

I've seen the films, people, so I knew what was to happen. And I don't think that I would ever have been emotionally stable enough to finish the book because I already knew that they all get on the big, shiny ship and "bye!" and Sam is sad and big fat tears are suddenly rolling down my face and SON OF A BITCH who brought me to see this movie??!?!

Complete. Emotional. Wreck.

I knew that these books were going to be good, but I really wasn't prepared for the writing. Tolkien was something, indeed. I love being invested in a book - or in this case, a trilogy - because a good author can draw the reader into the tale effortlessly, and I found myself completely mesmerized.

I would review the trilogy here, but... no. Just read them.

I finished the last few pages on the metro, and I didn't care that my fellow riders saw my tears. I was upset that they were getting on that ship. I was upset that I was on the penultimate page. I was upset with the realization that I had to say goodbye to these characters. I accepted the bittersweet ending, closed the cover quietly, and placed it in my bag.

What will I read next?