I finished reading today the book "I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki," which has been so famous on social media.
For some reason, when others rave about a book I tend to react against it and view it more critically, wondering if it's really that great. As the title itself carries weight, the situation it describes seems to fit my current state perfectly. I'm not so desperate that I want to die, but this somewhat aesthetic, melancholic feeling has been quietly consuming me.
The book consists of counseling sessions between two patients and a therapist. Some of the patients' feelings overlap with my worries and some do not, but the book is full of emotions I couldn't put into writing, and I feel comforted when words and sentences appear that express what I couldn't. Not every situation matches mine, but this book made me feel once again the power and consolation that writing can provide. It's a perfect book to spend a relaxed weekend with a coffee and about two hours of reflection.