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[bookishgrace]

im losing it over the fact that every single thing edward showed bella to scare her away just made her more horny ashdhdhsh

[bookishgrace]

Wow wow wow, what a ride! May was a fantastic reading month overall, the vast majority of the books I got through were 5 star reads. This one I read as part of @amysbookshelf Patreon book club, and I am so grateful to be a part of it and discover amazing works such as this one. When I tell you I was obsessed with this book, I’m not exaggerating. I started reading at around 10pm and when I realised it was morning, and I kept going until I finished it because WOW! And did I say WOW already? I have very strong feelings and opinions about this book and I’m more than happy to discuss them with anyone who read this, but otherwise I don’t want to spoil it because you really should read this! It explores a relationship between a married couple and what they go through when one of them is incarcerated for a crime he didn’t commit, or like they say in the book “he was the wrong colour at the wrong time”. This book will make you laugh, cry, and be incredibly angry, sometimes within the same page. It’s a rollercoaster. WOW 😂 Have you read this? What did you think? Do you have any similar books to recommend?

[bookishgrace]

Intoxicated

Coming to this birthday party was perhaps the dumbest decision of the century.

The memories are hard to avoid here. I feel like I’m having a very realistic flashback. However, I need to stay, it’s my friend’s birthday after all.

I can’t call her my best friend because she is my only friend, so that makes her the best by default already. But she has a lot more friends than I thought. There are at least 30 people here.

The smell is unbearable. It’s amazing how sensitive you get after you stop. Like cigarettes! I used to smoke, regularly. Like, one pack a day sort of thing. After I stopped the smell makes me nauseous and I can smell it a mile away. Well, the same thing is happening with alcohol. The smell is so strong, but not sickly… it’s nostalgic.

I shouldn’t think this way anymore. I’ve been sober for 5 months. I celebrated last week with Iced tea and carrot cake. But it didn’t feel like a celebration. Because all my teenage and adult life, celebrating meant having a drink… or two… or way too many.

You see, my problem was that I thought that just because I didn’t drink every day, I didn’t have a problem. Oh, how I was wrong…

I didn’t drink every day, but when I did, I abused it. And when the weekend arrived I had the NEED to drink. It should’ve been enough of a warning. Unfortunately, we tend to only address an issue after it has become catastrophically bad rather than tackling it whilst it’s just starting to develop.

I went from abusing alcohol on the weekends to having “just one” every day of the week. But does “just one” ever mean just one? It should. But if it had been back then, I wouldn’t have had a problem.

I used to become unpleasant when I drank. I was verbally abusive to my partner, friends and family.

They tried to help for a while, they tried to make me see what my nasty habit was doing to me. But I didn’t see it. I didn’t believe them. I used to blame them and think they were trying to keep me from having fun.

Now I’m single. Of course, I am. And I wholeheartedly understand why. I don’t blame him for leaving at all. If anything, I am sorry for making him leave.

I lost all my friends and drove my family away too. For similar reasons. My behaviour was unacceptable.

When things got truly bad and I started drinking heavily every day, I lost my job in the blink of an eye but luckily I own a house and I had enough savings to support myself. But for how long? Everything was being spent on alcohol.

That time of my life is a big blur. I was either too intoxicated to remember, or too disturbed to WANT to remember.

Eventually, I got involved with the wrong crowd. But at the time, they were the right crowd because they were like me. Party animals. Except, life wasn’t much of a party. It was dark, sad and dangerous.

My bouts of drunken casual sexual encounters became regular. Never with the same people. Never with people I knew. And never protected.

Luckily I never caught any disease, however, I became pregnant.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the wake-up call I needed and my lifestyle remained the same which lead to what haunts me to this day. I lost my baby.

When I first found out I was pregnant I didn’t know who the father was so I didn’t care. I just pretended it wasn’t real. But as time went on it was unavoidable to face it. It was real.

When I finally gathered the courage to go see a doctor, I found out that there were complications and the baby hadn’t developed as it should. And it would be unlikely to survive. And it didn’t.

I blamed myself back then and I still do today.

I killed my child.

That was the wake-up call I needed. Way too late. I sought medical help and ended up in rehab.

It was incredibly hard. I was going through withdrawal, regret, shame and grief. A powerful combination of feelings that couldn’t kill me, but I wished it did.

Eventually, things got bearable. My system was clean and my health was stabilised. So I went home and decided to turn my life around.

This wasn’t as easy to do as it was in theory.

I was haunted by all the things I did, the life I lost and the life I took.

After weeks of trying to make it by myself, I realised I didn’t have to be alone. I joined a support group and I can’t be more glad that I did.

I met my friend there, she had been sober for 2 years at the time. Some people had been sober for as long as 10 years. This made me realise that no matter how much time passes, I’ll always be tortured by my past.

Nowadays I live very differently. I’ve been sober for 5 months but it feels like a week. The memories are hard to suppress and I constantly avoid situations that bring them back.

I don’t go to family dinners, they started to invite me again when they found out I was sober, but I’m not ready to talk to them about it.

I have contacted my ex-partner and some of my former close friends. I didn’t try to pick up where we left off or be a part of their lives again. I just wanted to apologise.

Everyone accepted my apology, but no one showed any intentions of being back in my life. And I didn’t insist on it either. I don’t deserve it.

I know that my path to wellness is only just starting, but I’m doing my absolute best and I feel like things are on track.

Being at a birthday party isn’t the easiest thing ever when it comes to memories, but it sure is a good challenge.

I am better. I’m not that person anymore.

“What are you having, love?” Asks who I assume is one of my best friend’s many friends.

“Can I have a pint of lager, please?”

He hands it to me, smiles and tells me to “enjoy it”. If only he knew.

I take a sip and the taste, besides being familiar, isn’t as pleasant as I was expecting.

It takes me so long to drink that it gets lukewarm and I don’t finish it. And as I put it down the friend turns to me again and asks: “Would you like another?”

And the answer is easy: “No, I’m good. Thank you!”

I’m the one smiling this time.

I control it. It doesn’t control me anymore.

- Grace Humby

[bookishgrace]

My lovely mother-in-law lent me this book (and others!) some time ago and I thought it was about time to show it some love. Before #booktube and #bookstagram took over my book decision making, thriller was my go-to genre so it was quite nice to get lost in it, and I want to go back to my book loving roots and give horror and thriller a big spot in my life and future TBRs. The Stranger by Harlan Coben keeps you intrigued the whole time, and there’s so much going on that it’s easy to get a bit obsessed and read it in one go - I know I did 👀 But although it kept me entertained and ticked most of my boxes, it didn’t WOW me so I gave this book a very respectable ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Has your go-to genre changed over the years?

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Here's my attempt at a Name Stack, with a little twist! Not that twisty tho, just added both names.

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The Infernal Devices was one of those #bookstagrammademedoit or #booktubemademedoit kinda thing, so I went into it with an open mind. I have a pretty horrific track record of getting books I see everyone loving and then I either don’t like them at all, or can’t even read past the first couple of chapters.

This copy of the Clockwork Angel was lent to me by my fellow #bookstagrammer and real-life best friend @eatgymreadrepeat , and it was all battered (well-loved) which gave me the cosiest of feelings. But unfortunately, this book wasn’t my cup of tea and I won’t be continuing with the series.

Two reasons: - I didn’t like the way Tessa sometimes came out with internal comments along the lines of “I’m inferior because I am a woman, and I shouldn’t do certain things because it’s unladylike”. Yes, I understand it’s because that was the mentality of the era the book was set in, but it’s just not something I enjoy reading. - second reason, the chapters were loooooooooong and I prefer books with shorter chapters, because it keeps me going and the “just one more chapter” narrative becomes an achievable goal. My rating: ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

[bookishgrace]

A King naked stack, one of my best so far!

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Love you, Love you not

They say time flies when you’re doing something you enjoy.

Well, the opposite is just as true. I’ve been waiting for him for over twenty minutes now and with every minute that goes by I am more tempted to leave. It feels like hours. I’m embarrassed and the waitress is getting moody.

But I can’t leave now. That would be even more heartbreaking than what is about to happen.

You see, he never takes me anywhere. EVER. We’ve been together for 5 years and I can’t remember the last time he took me out on a date, so I obviously grew suspicious when he asked me to meet him for dinner after work.

I thought he either wanted to break up or tell me he’s cheating on me, both options would require a public safe space because I can get really… intense.

After he told me he wanted to go out with me I went around the house on a mission, a mission to find evidence that he was cheating but instead, I found something I wouldn’t have expected in a million years: a ring.

A bloody ring, can you believe it? Why would he want to marry me? Perhaps it’s not even for me! I hope that’s the case because our relationship is so dead that its life insurance has paid out already.

I think our problems started as soon as we got together. We automatically adopted a lifestyle that made us resemble a long-time married couple. There was no mystery, no privacy, it was all about us being together. We both stopped working on ourselves, and things went horribly wrong.

We moved in together just a couple months into the relationship. He was renting a tiny apartment and I started staying over so much that I just stopped leaving altogether.

He did and still does, so many things that annoy me. He leaves the door open when he goes to the toilet, every time he eats he hoovers the food down like he hasn’t eaten in months, he leaves rubbish everywhere he goes, and the list goes on. And I’m absolutely sure I’m no saint either.

We got too comfortable too quickly, too soon.

He also does things that I find adorable, not all is bad, he leaves the light on if he goes to bed first so I don’t trip, he makes me a cappuccino every single morning, he does most of the chores because he wants to, and he loves me, even if he doesn’t show it.

But just because he does good things doesn’t mean I have to live with the bad things.

We also have very different views. I want to build a career, make good money and never have to worry about the end of the month. He on the other hand, not so much. He’s comfortable in life. Way too comfortable. He doesn’t mind getting minimum wage if that means routine, normalcy and no risks.

I’m full of ideas and interests. He only has one interest and I’m pretty sure that in 5 years, I’ve never witnessed him having an actual idea.

But he takes care of me when I’m ill, and he deals with my meltdowns like a champ. He does anything and everything I ask for.

That also bothers me, he does things because I ask him to. He never does something because he thought it would make me happy. It’s always because he’s following orders. And I need a partner, not a butler.

Our sex life is non-existent. Talking about having kids is somehow a thing, but how are we going to make them? I have considered looking for a sex partner elsewhere, but I don’t think infidelity would solve the issue. The issue is us. We don’t belong together. We don’t match. I don’t understand why he would propose.

When we met the red flags were there. Everything wrong with us today could have been predicted back then. He never showed that he craved me sexually, he never chose what we would eat that day and would conform to whatever I chose, later revealing that he hated the meal. His apartment was filthy, his mattress was bare! He slept on nothing but his mattress and used the tiniest blanket to stay warm.

Why did I even stay with him?

I think I see him through the window.

Yes! That’s definitely him. With his fancy clothing. Who is he trying to fool?

“Hi” Dry and uninteresting as ever. Good start.

“You’re late. You know how much I hate waiting. You know how much I hate being alone in public. Why did you think it was ok to leave me hanging?”

Silence.

Always silence.

He never talks back. It’s frustrating. It always makes me nervous and I eventually explode with anger.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“Can we eat, please? I have prepared something for you.”

The waitress looks happier, she no longer has a loner occupying one of her tables without ordering.

She doesn’t look so happy when I order tap water and the soup of the day. I couldn’t care less.

Dinner is uneventful. We don’t talk much as usual. But I can see he’s visibly nervous, terrified even. I know social situations make him really uncomfortable. It makes me uncomfortable too. That’s probably why he never takes me anywhere. Neither of us really enjoy it.

“I took care of dessert. I’m sorry I didn’t consult you, and that’s why I was a bit late too. I’m sorry.” He says, almost sweating and visibly trembling.

“Your forgiveness will depend on what dessert you got.”

I can see a little smirk form on his face, and suddenly he signals to the waitress. Brave and exclusive. He avoids these situations like the plague.

The waitress brings an overly fancy tray and puts it in front of me.

Written on it with chocolate fondant is the dreaded question - “Will you marry me?”

“Is this desse…”

I couldn’t finish my question. He’s already on his knee showing me the ring I had already seen. But he doesn’t know that.

“I know we have our moments, but if it wasn’t clear already, you are the woman of my dreams. I don’t want anyone else in my life but you. And I know I can be difficult, but everything I do is for you. I want you to be the happiest woman in the world, and if you let me, I want to be the happiest man in the world with you. Will you marry me?”

I freeze.

I want to say no. Why am I not saying no?

Unfortunately, the answer is easy.

He makes me absolutely miserable, but I can’t imagine my life without him. He makes me laugh, he makes me look forward to the future and I can be my true self around him.

I don’t need filters, pleasantries or fake politeness. I am more me with him.

So, does he really make me that miserable? If I can only be myself around him, isn’t the problem me? Is being myself making me miserable? It would make sense. I’m irritable and sad most of the time. I get angry at absolutely everything and it only takes a second to make me go from 0 to 100. Truth is, when that happens, he is there to either calm me down or to allow me to take it out on him.

Perhaps I don’t hate him, I hate myself.

It’s so much easier to blame someone else for our problems than admitting that maybe, the problem is within ourselves.

He knows me better than I know myself. He sees all the ugly in me, and still, he loves me.

And if we’re being real, I love him. I love him more than anything in this world. I want to spend my life with him.

Is suffering worth it? Definitely. Because no matter if I’m with him, with someone else or alone. I will suffer. That’s just life. So if I have to choose, I want to go through life with him.

I look at his face and I see it differently now. He has the purest, most innocent and more beautiful face I’ve ever seen.

I touch it and it’s as soft as ever, his eyes watery and I can feel him shaking. He doesn’t need to wait anymore, my decision is made, and it has always been.

“Yes”

- Grace Humby

[bookishgrace]

This was a gift from a dear friend, and just how pretty is that bookmark? Really pumped for this series, it sounds awesome.

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Here's my very poor attempt at a Rainbow Stack. Got the colours completely wrong! Although I promise it wasn't this bad before editing, and Rebecca was actually green.

Anyways! I've actually only read two in this pile so far: Five feet apart and Daisy Jones.

Daisy Jones didn't live up to the hype for me. Don't get me wrong, I was enthralled by the world and read it in one sitting. But I read it right after Evelyn Hugo which was superior by far, so my expectations were way too high.

Five Feet Apart was the first book ever that made me physically cry. Sure, many books made me sob on the inside, but I'm pretty good at keeping emotions in check with books because the speed in which I take information in is slower than, let's say, a TV show (which make me cry way too often). But this book, although predictable - it had a very John Green-y vibe - made me actually cry.

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The whole SOUR album is a mood. But this one takes the cake imo.

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"If you expect nothing from somebody you are never disappointed."

- Plath, S. The Bell Jar

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This was my first Twisted Tale and it surely won't be my last.

I have to admit, the middle dragged a little bit and I feel like this book could've benefited from being a bit shorted. But the ending was wholesome and made every page worth it.

The Good:

- We got to know Wendy on a more intimate level. We learned about her qualities, and flaws. Her motivations, and inner thoughts. It was lovely and I feel like I got an in-depth peak into what Disney never told us.

- The interactions between Wendy and the pirates were priceless. Stockholm Syndrome? Perhaps, but it was so enjoyable.

The Bad:

- Could've been shorter. Some parts were lengthier than necessary.

My Rating:

4 STARS

[bookishgrace]

Trapped

I have no idea how long I’ve been here.

Long enough that I’m freezing cold, starving and exhausted. I never expected to wait for this long, but I haven’t got long left to wait. That’s good, right?

Waiting can be good too. Especially when you don’t have a crosswords book or a needle and some yarn to keep you distracted. It sounds bad but it actually makes your mind wander. I have remembered things I haven’t thought about in so long, it’s hard to believe I actually lived them. And I have planned all the trips I’m going to take for at least the next year.

See, when I was a child, I didn’t have much to wait for. I waited for the new school year to start after I got bored of the “big summer break”. I waited for the Ice Cream truck just so I could hear the music. There’s no way my mother would’ve actually bought me anything. As a child, I was frustrated. But now? I understand life wasn’t easy. My dad had left us. Never heard of him again. Or maybe he died? Now that I think about it, it would make sense. I was very sheltered. My mum kept the remains of three of our cats buried in the garden and told me they had gone on an adventure. Until I was fourteen and got into gardening. Well… You can guess what happened from there.

Fourteen was such a sweet age. I had a new hobby every week. And every week it got ruined somehow. Maybe that’s why my interests as an adult were limited at best.

So when I was 18, I thought I could conquer the world, but all I did was smoke and drink since I had tried every kind of activity as a teenager and realised I would never be anyone.

What a dark age. All I did was wait for my life to be over. Sweet young me, so naive, so poetically sad.

Things got better eventually, they always do don’t they? Young adults are unusually miserable, I think that the fact that simple life ended and now they are responsible for everything in their life hits them like a train.

So at 25, I moved out of my mother’s house. A little late I admit, especially for those times. Everyone I went to school with was happily married and had three kids. But me? Sweet me was clueless. I had spent so much time drinking and smoking that I forgot that one day I’d have to get a life.

Turns out it wasn’t too late for me. And my story is grandchildren-telling-worthy for sure. The lettings agent that showed me my first house, Rick, ended up being my husband. And I moved out of my first house as soon as I got married because apparently, Rick made it sound so good because he needed his commission. I wasn’t upset at all, it was funny, even.

We only had two kids. He wanted more, but I valued my sanity. And I didn’t want kids to begin with but it was socially correct to do so.

That doesn’t mean I don’t love my kids. They’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. But if I could go back in time, I’d still be single.

Rick was so lovely, funny and all stereotypical good traits you can imagine. But the pain of seeing him die was too much for my little heart. He killed himself when our oldest daughter, Ellen, was just five years old. Depression, according to the prescription pills I found in his car’s glove compartment.

“Rick, I love you, but I will never forgive you” were the last words he heard come out of my mouth. Or maybe he didn’t? He could’ve been too far out at that point.

I needed him so much. And I was there to help him. But he never even mentioned his sorrow.

I’m being petty. Of course, I am. I should worry about his wellbeing rather than myself, but I wish I could’ve thought that way. I was always such a selfish person.

The kids were too young to understand. Ellen missed her father but happily believed it when I told her he was spending some time with grandma. Funny, that’s what my mother told me after my father left.

And Bella. Little sweet Bella. She was only a few months old. What did she know? She didn’t even miss him, and she doesn’t recognise him in pictures. Silly of me to expect her to.

This is so sad, it’s making me way too upset, I wonder if I’ll have to wait much longer. I’m so tired.

Speaking of tired, I was exhausted after Rick was gone. Two kids was hard work. Especially back then when I was supposed to be a stay-at-home mother whilst my husband provided. But that didn’t happen, did it?

I moved back in with my mother.

A 32-year-old woman living with her mother. Let that sink in, because it sure was difficult for me.

A few years after we moved, my mother died in her sleep. She was so young too, I think she died of loneliness. I wholeheartedly believe that is a thing.

As much as me and the kids were around, mother didn’t talk to anyone else, she didn’t have friends or even friendly neighbours. I miss her dearly.

I kept my mother’s house. It was as small as houses get, but I took her bedroom and the girls took my childhood attic-turned-bedroom. They loved it. They were always going on about how they would be the only survivors if a flood were to happen.

I wonder where they got their sense of humour.

Life was uneventful since then. I saw the kids grow up and move out one after the other. Surprisingly, Bella moved out first. I always expected the older one to be the first to leave, but can we even expect anything of life anymore?

Ellen stayed until she was 23 years old and we learned to dislike each other.

It’s ironic how I went through with my kids, what my mother went through with me.

What a lovely thing to relive all these memories and realise things we hadn’t before.

But I don’t want to talk about the past really. My wait is almost over and I still haven’t told you about my travel plans!

I want to go to Canada next year. I always have. It’s so cold and snowy there, and I love the cold. Even if the way I’m freezing now makes me want to change my mind about that.

I would like to spend some time in Canada and possibly visit some of the United States afterwards. Haven’t planned that far ahead but, it doesn’t matter does it? It’s not like I will actually do it. I’ve always enjoyed daydreaming and imagining all these scenarios that are unrealistic at best.

That’s what has kept me sane this entire time.

If you can call it sane. I’m not even conscious. However, my mind is intact.

I lived alone for way too many years after the kids left, and just like mother, I was lonely. I wasn’t lucky enough to die in my sleep like she was, and I grew tired of waiting. I tried to go as Rick did. But Rick was successful. He always was, he had a career, two beautiful little kids and a caring wife. What did I have? A dead husband, two adult offsprings, one of which forgot I existed, and the other who hated me for trying to raise her properly.

I, on the other hand, was a failure. I took as many pills as he did, but instead of being free from this life, I got trapped in it. I was put in a medically induced coma. The damage was too great to do anything. I heard talks about irreversible brain damage.

What do they know? My brain had never worked better. Shame I can’t wake up and tell them all to get lost because I can’t stand their voices anymore! Day in, day out. Office gossip, weepy relatives I haven’t seen, well, ever. Is this what happens when you die? Suddenly people care? Shouldn’t they care when you’re around instead? I swear people just like suffering. They wouldn’t be in my life when we could’ve had some good times. But now suddenly they want to come here and cry over someone they don’t even know.

I think it’s time. Finally.

Good thing I didn’t waste time planning any more trips. I’ve had enough of dreaming about things that will never happen.

Yes, it is time. I’m sure of it. I hear voices. They’re finally coming.

I have no idea how long I’ve been in a coma, I mean, it is to expect, right? I didn’t exactly have the chance to bring my watch or a calendar.

And just my luck that Ellen is in charge of the plug. I knew she’d pull it the first chance she got.

I can hear everything. She had a choice. To keep me here or to let me go.

Do I even blame her at this point? I know we weren’t on good terms, but she can’t possibly hate her mother enough to kill her.

But, to her, have I even been alive this entire time? She sees a lifeless body, day in and day out. Doctors tell her that my brain isn’t functioning, and I can’t prove otherwise.

She probably thinks she’s putting me out of my misery. But I’m not miserable at all, I like being here with my thoughts, and snooping on interesting conversations.

But they’re not always interesting, and people try to talk to me with the hopes I can hear less and less every day. I am getting lonely again.

I was lonely in life, and I’m lonely in “fake death”. I’m just happy I don’t have to be the one to end it this time.

I’ve come to accept it. I don’t know if I could adapt to life after this.

I couldn’t even adapt to life before this.

So I’m happy. And I can’t remember the last time I was happy.

The wait is finally over.

I will see Rick and mother again.

I can’t hear the voices anymore. Only the impossibly loud sound of the flatline.

What a beautiful sound, the last sound I’ll ever hear.

- Grace Humby

[bookishgrace]

"No matter how we choose to live, we both die at the end"

- Silvera, A. They Both Diet at the End

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half of me finishes a book within 6-12 consecutive hours and the other half of me takes roughly six months.