I am a bookworm. And I must confess.

I hate sharing my books.

No, no, not lending my books. That’s a different story that I will tackle another time. I hate sharing the stories.

— wait, wait, let me rephrase. Not all the time. Of COURSE I want people to read the same books as me. Because, let’s face it, I read the best books.

But I mean…. erm. Well when a particular person starts raving about the characters… it makes me jealous.

Like, um, excuse me, missy, those are MINE.

It’s like how I imagine girls who have unhealthy obsessions with celebrities. They like to think they know absolutely everything about their particular celebrity crush and he’s theirs alone. When the truth is, he belongs to his friends.

It’s like that. With characters. And… the truth is, they belong to their authors.

Or… you know, you’ve got a best friend. Right? (I do! *waves* hey mom!) 😉 Well picture someone stepping in and snatching your best friend and being all “Oh my gosh she bakes the best brownies and her room is adorable!” and you’re all defensive because, well, you know. You know very well and for a lot longer than them… *scoff*

It’s like that. With the books. And… the truth is, it doesn’t matter how long you’ve known the characters, because now you and the person you lent your book to are both in square one. It’s an even playing field, and it can be hard.

I don’t mean to say all this to be selfish, but it’s confession time and it’s true. Sometimes, a teeny part of me likes to think I am the only one who knows these little people on paper. I DON’T LIKE TO SHARE.

sharing isn’t easy.