Sometimes I like to feel the cold breeze hit my face, it reminds me that I'm still alive.
The last chapter of the book is always the hardest to read, of course. If you've been reading the book for this long, you clearly don't want it to end.
The story is too good, the feelings too real, the setting always perfect, no matter where it is.
The last words on that page.
The last words.
You can reread them as many times as you want to, it won't change the ending to the story. It won't make the story continue. It exhausts every part of you.
If only you could stretch that last sentence out, just a bit longer. It could never be long enough.
When you sit there, at that moment, the moment you realize it's over, paralysis sets in and you turn the page to see a blank slate. There are no more words, no more story.
It's just what it is, a blank page.
You beg, "Please don't end." But there is nobody to hear your cries. There is nothing you can do.
It's time to close the book, and the only chance you have to keep the story alive is to reread it over and over again, always hoping for a new ending.