boys of tommen may be one of the best book series iโve ever read and iโm genuinely not okay about it?? like i finished the last book and immediately felt that weird hollow ache in my chest like someone ripped my fictional lifeline out of me.
i love every single one of them. every. single. one. like okay my found family.
the feral attachment iโve developed??? embarrassing. the fact that theyโre not real??? criminal. the way i would sell my soul to be part of their little gang??? pathetic.
iโm literally walking around like a ghost because i miss them so much. canโt think. canโt breathe. canโt function. society does NOT understand my struggles.
and the worst part???
i have absolutely no one to talk about it with.
not a single friend whoโs read it. not one soul to scream to about the feral loyalty and the trauma and the chaos and the softness and the way they make my neurons light up like itโs a rave in my brain.
at this point iโm genuinely considering starting a freaking diary just to cope. like some 1800s heartbroken maiden writing dear diary, today i missed fictional irish boys so much i almost perished.
i need new books asap before i start leaving cryptic notes in chalk on the sidewalk about how much i miss fictional people. until then iโll be here, dramatically clutching my chest and whispering why arenโt you real into the void like an unhinged victorian ghost.
all my babies please come back to me
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