Damn emotions!
I just finished A Walk to Remember and was truly unimpressed with the begining. I could not feel anything more than that the author was trying to rush me through something as quick as possible, all told in a flash back. Then for the last fourty pages it slows down and the bastard rips your heart out more times than I could count. With little words and phrases he tears you down and the tears well up, then eventually flow.

I could not help but envy a fictional character who could remember 40 years past in such detail. I had these images of my grandmother flash back to me and the month that she spent with us just prior to passing away. I only remember her sitting on the couch, once I remember walking in on my mom and her crying. We did not know she was going to die so that was not why she was crying. She later told me what that conversation was about and it was about me and how disrespectful I was. My grandmother stood up for me.

I can't help but feel horrible for how selfish I was.

This is not the first time I have felt this way, but after having this pressure of sorrow on your chest for a good hour it will hit you hard. So here I am, not sure why I am typing all this or how much sense it will make. Please don't reply to this with "don't be sad" (or anything similar) as I am not sad or filled with self-pity. I am just reflective and sharing it here.