Have you ever regretted reading a book — which one and why?
Have I ever regretted reading a book?
Honestly, not really. I love reading books far too much to blame the book. But I do have a little bookish guilt and it usually begins with four completely harmless words:
“Just one more chapter.”
That sentence has ruined more sleep than caffeine ever could. 😂
I’ll start reading at night thinking I’ll read for twenty minutes. Then I look at the clock and somehow it’s 1:30 a.m. The sensible part of my brain whispers, “You have to wake up tomorrow.”
The reader in me replies, “Yes, yes. After this chapter.”
And of course, there is always another chapter.
The Trouble With “Just One More Chapter”
Sometimes a book is so good that everything else suddenly becomes negotiable.
Messages can wait.
Chores can wait.
Sleep can definitely wait.
Apparently, everything in the real world understands that I am currently busy.
I have absolutely no idea how a simple reading session turns into a full-scale negotiation between my responsibilities and a fictional story. 😂
And if someone asks, “Are you still reading?”
The answer is usually:
“Almost finished.”
Which, in book-lover language, can mean anything from ten minutes to another two hours.
My Real Bookish Guilt
The funny thing is, I don’t regret the book.
I regret what happens around it.
I regret promising myself that I would read for only half an hour.
I regret checking the time.
I regret remembering that I have to wake up early.
And I definitely regret saying, “This is the last chapter.”
Because we all know that is a lie.
There is always a next chapter.
And sometimes there is an epilogue.
And sometimes there are acknowledgements that I suddenly feel emotionally obligated to read too. 😂
When the Book Finally Ends
Then comes the strange part.
I finally finish the book, close it, and expect to feel productive.
Instead, I just sit there staring at the last page.
Now what?
The characters I have spent hours with are gone. The story is over. And real life suddenly feels suspiciously less interesting.
So perhaps my biggest bookish guilt isn’t staying up too late.
It’s becoming emotionally attached to people who don’t even exist.
And then wondering why I miss them. 😂
Have I Ever Regretted Reading a Book?
No.
Not the books.
Never the books.
I only regret believing myself every single time I say:
“Just one more chapter.”
Because that sentence has never once meant one chapter.
It is basically a legally binding contract with 2 a.m. 😂📚
Now tell me how many times has “just one more chapter” turned into “why is the sun rising?” And what’s your biggest bookish guilt?
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Until The Next Whisper,
—Rajeshwari 🧿💕
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© NihshabdThe Silent Stories That Speak to the Soul. All Rights Reserved.
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