I Can’t Stop Buying Books…

At this point in time, I am not the richest I have ever been in my life. And by that I mean I’m pretty goddamn poor.



I have been living off a shitty retail job and government payouts while I study my Masters but the majestic government have decided that they don’t want to pay me until February. This means that the five cents I managed to save while working my shitty retail job will have to tide me over until Christmas is over and I can get another job.


Of course, if I hadn’t spent 3 years of my life studying a Bachelor of Arts, I wouldn’t be in this position but I realised this fact a liiiiiiiiiiittle too late…little late being after I graduated. Oh well, what’s done is done.


It is also Christmas time. I keep hoping that if I refuse to acknowledge that this is so, that the world might somehow skip over the holiday entirely.


Christmas (in case you are a lucky bastard and do not celebrate this terrible holiday) is THE MOST EXPENSIVE time of the year. You have to give gifts to every single person you have come into contact with throughout the past year. This is a shit load of people for the average human being not afflicted with agoraphobia.


And yet, despite knowing that once I have bought everyone and their uncle a present, I will be utterly broke, I continue to keep buying myself a new fucking book every five seconds. Granted, I am reading the books, so it’s not like I’m wasting money. And even if I didn’t read them, it still wouldn’t be a waste of money to buy books. Let’s establish this fact. BOOKS ARE THE BEST!








-3But why am I buying all these books when I know that I have no money? The dollars I do possess should be used to buy everyone I love (and some other people I merely tolerate) a present for this holiday I don’t celebrate.



Besides, all the children on my Christmas Present Recipient List are already massively spoilt and I can’t afford to give them the kinds of things they’re expecting.



However, knowing all these things has not affected my ability to swipe my magical plastic card through machine after machine and arrive back in my apartment with another addition to my ever expanding bookshelf. Yet I can’t bring myself to stop because I feel like that would be like cutting off my oxygen supply.




(don’t you just love Leslie Caron?!)


And before I get carried away talking about books anymore, go away and do some reading yourselves.



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