It was enough.

Saturday night and I actually fell asleep early, only to find myself stirring at around 2 in the morning of Sunday. Tossing and turning, cocooning myself in my chilly blanket, and fluffing the pillow, did nothing to put me back on slumber mode.

That’s when The End, the thirteenth and final installment in Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, came into the picture. For months, my relationship with this series was on and off. At times it’s fast-paced I’d finish two books and a half in a day. The suspense was enticing, I had to know what happens next immediately. That is, with the first half of the series.

Then I got to the part where the villainy and the seemingly unending misfortune eventually killed the cat. Cat meaning my thirst for follow-ups and installments. Olaf, Esme Squalor, the innumerable meanings of VFD, and how when the Baudelaires thought they got the piece of cake, it’s taken away from them, was how I stepped on the brake. Woah, series, calm down.

My emotions were up and down, I had to have a breather, and I took it. For a month. Silly me, Mr. Snicket left warnings on how miserable the Baudelaire story is and I just kept on reading. On and on, eager to end the monstrosity of their misfortunes. As though by reading and getting to the final page of every book, the villainy that tags along the characters would finally, let go and let them be.

When you think about something, it adds a bit of weight to your walk, and as you think about more and more things you are liable to feel heavier and heavier, until you are so burdened you cannot take any further steps, and can only sit and stare at the gentle movements of the ocean waves or security guards, thinking too hard about too many things to do anything else.

Reading thirteen books on misfortune is bound to take its toll on you. Reading this series means a rollercoaster ride for my emotions. Thinking too much, I didn’t just mentally put myself in their shoes. For a while, I unconsciously immersed deeply in their catastrophes. As if I was standing in the very same spot. What can Violet invent to get us out of this disaster? Klaus, do you remember anything you’ve read about this and that? Sunny, is there anything you can prepare that wo

It is a curious thing, but as one travels the world getting older and older, ut appears that happiness is easier to get used to than despair.


There is a kind of crying I hope you have not experienced, and it is not just about crying about something terrible that has happened, but a crying for all of the terrible things that have happened, not just to you but to everyone you know and to everyone you don’t know and even the people you don’t want to know, a crying that cannot be diluted by a brave deed or a kind word, but only by someone holding you as your shoulders shake and your tears run down your face.

Never, ever thought I’d feel differently about him. But when the sort-of closure and sort-of answers to the questions were laid out, and final words were uttered, when his eyes shone brightly, I found the connection. I understood. Whenever I read the paragraph where Count Olaf finally shut off, I mourn. Honestly, my heart breaks even more for him than Kit Snicket. It’s Severus Snape all over again.

One cannot spend forever sitting and solving the mysteries of one’s history,and no matter how much one reads, the whole story can never be told.

But it was enough.

We’ve finally walked through the beginning of the end. With Mr. Snicket still on the run.


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