Conclusion to insanity.
I’m going to talk about books, and in particular, one I’ve just finished reading. If you don’t appreciate literature, please proceed elsewhere. However, if you’re a bookworm like myself…continue. You may just be enlightened.
So as many of you know, reading is one of my utmost obsessions in every sense of the word, (aside from music, that is). I’ve talked about it briefly before, and it’s no secret that I’m a bookworm by nature. There’s just something about opening a new book - it’s the equivalent of entering a vast new world. Books have a way of making me feel that way - of thrusting me into a realm of total obscurity. It’s so odd…I crave serenity within sweet pages, dripping with complete hysteria and chaos. Unfortunately, I rarely receive compensation, thus leaving my bones shaken by a riveting conclusion, and somehow a fictional character has become poignant in my mind. It’s ridiculous. Sometimes I’ll linger on a conclusion for weeks, unable to draw a peace of mind from anything at all. That’s what’s funny though. All too often, accepting a novel’s conclusion is like trying to seek sugar in a barrel of salt. Implausible.
My most recent experience of this has stemmed from a series of books by an author named Ellen Hopkins. Her stories are ingenious. She writes entirely in free-verse, and her works tend to center around darker, more eccentric thoughts which include depression, drug addiction, suicide, self-harm, abuse, and even more controversial topics such as religious oppression.
Now, I’ve read Burned and Crank, both of which were relentlessly touching, despite their dark demeanor, but I must say that Impulse is by far the most touching I’ve read thus far. The book’s plot consists of three teenagers (Conner, Tony and Vanessa), all of which suffer immensely from such diseases as bipolar disorder, depression and anxiety. Two of them tried to kill themselves, one via slit wrists (Vanessa), the other through shooting himself in the chest (Conner). These teens have all been admitted to a rehabilitation center where they meet and become fast friends.
In a nutshell, Vanessa and Tony (who is gay) fall in love, (despite Tony’s sexuality) which was wonderful - I was ecstatic - I wanted them to get together from the get-go! (There was no denying that connection - they were soul-mates.) Now, the two were best friends with Conner, who, because if his heartless, completely careless family, ends up making it to the final challenge (a wilderness trip), only to climb to the top of a mountain and then jump off its cliff…which is an event that both Tony and Vanessa witness. And then the book ends with Tony seeing a perfect paper airplane gliding through the empty camp. It’s quite a haunting scene. It’s very unsettling.
I was devastated. I’d grown so attached to Conner and his witty sense of humor…I felt like he was a real person…and I felt like I knew him. It legitimately felt like a close friend of mine had committed suicide. I couldn’t believe it. I cried for hours. It’s crazy how an author can do that to you, isn’t it? They sharpen the plot so vigorously that it slithers down your throat, glides through your stomach and stabs you ruthlessly in the soul numerous times until you are permanently scarred.
Maybe it’s just me. But books change me. I’m not sure why…but the question of whether or not I will ever forget Conner is uncertain. I mean, I can assure you, I won’t forget him…but then again, he is a fictional character. But then again, he’s not. It’s very strange, I know. But it’s indescribable.
