I’ve only gotten this feeling in the past year or so. The feeling of a boulder on your lungs. Like a mermaid getting pulled from the ocean and painfully adjusting to air. The feeling of a dull, persistent nagging in the center of yourself. I got that feeling after finishing Allegiant.
As Ain020596 on GoodReads put it, I may never be happy ever again.
First thoughts: *spoiler* The main character, Tris dies, and that’s never happened in a book I’ve read. But that’s ok. I’m ok with it. It’s just, after all their fighting, sacrificing, and dying, all to save the world, how do you think that makes me feel about my own life? Moments after finishing (read: after trying to take it all in for forever), I did some normal chores and what not and thought, Tris Prior spent her days saving the world, fixing the governing system, and saving the world while I’m here scrambling eggs. Will these eggs prevent future generations from living in a walled-off city forever? I don’t think so. Although Tris and the Divergent world is fictional and I won’t ever be a gun-firing, simulation-resistant warrior, I can still do things that have as much impact as the Bureau on the Tris. But I’m not.
The actual book though, had left me emotionally drained.
Further thoughts: after sleeping it over, I think I know what I’m feeling. Grief. I’m grieving he death of Tris. She may not be real but she is most definitely a part of my life. This is the first book, ever, to engulf me into its world. I’m grieving Tris, my friend, my role model.
Just BTDubs, I’m gonna start calling all these deep, thinking about life, rant-ish posts “let’s go submarine”. ‘Cause submarines… they go deep. 🙂