So I read this book in summer. It’s called Tweak by Nic Sheff.
I’m not getting payed or anything to say this, but its an amazing book. I mean my friends read it, pushed by my awesome critique of it. They didn’t like it. They said the main character’s struggle, which is actually real, was suffocating. They couldn’t relate. They did relate to Charlie from Perks of Being a Wallflower. That’s another story though.
For me, you know Nic Sheff, writes it so so true. And then he starts talking about his problems and why he started using (Spoiler: Its about drugs) and you know I relate. I don’t do drugs, and don’t plan to. But its just his insecurities were super similar to mine, and sometimes its nice to know that you’re not the only one out there feeling that way. So I related, I read the book and felt I was reading about the crap I feel about myself.
I read a lot. I’m pretty young, but I read a lot and recently you know I passed through this phase where I didn’t want to read The Clique or Gossip Girl or whatever. I wanted to read things with meaning. So I started trying, I’ve read so much books about drugs, and addicts, I’m reading one about this kid with Tourrette’s Syndrome, but the books itself is too light. It’s not what I was looking for. For some reason, this sad stories, they fascinate me. I don’t know if that means I’m messed up or something. I cry with them too.
Sometimes, it’s nice to know you’re not alone feeling what you feel. Those books, that’s what they do. They make you know you’re not alone.
Also, read Tweak. It really is an amazing book