Why do I keep reading a book which makes me feel bad for most of it, just to find out at the end that it’s going to be continued in another book next year.

New resolution: when a book makes me feel bad, I’m dropping it. Too bad about feeling guilty about the writer and respecting someone’s work and giving it a chance and blablabla. I am now depressed and I have myself to thank for it.

The book is called Incomplete, and that’s how I feel.


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