I am drained of tears and my body is just wracking against itself forcefully. I have already vomited twice and once the gurgling dies down in my throat I may again. I am painfully lost between feeling destroyed and stupid to react so wildly to a fiction, but my throat is actually hoarse and in pain for shouting curses into the night. If anyone heard them, I'm sure they think I lost a lover or a brother to a real skirmish and I apologize. Who am I to so completely fall into a hyperventilating mess while one of my best friends has a husband, real and palpable and amazing, who faces actual warfare? I feel betrayed by my emotions and so aware of the world and I called my father at 3 in the morning to tell him I loved him. I hate that I need comforting right now. More, I hate that no one else does. Not because they don't care, but because they're slower than I. And I hate to think that just last night the world was celebrating, parties at midnight, people dressed like witches and wizards and bobbing for apples down at Barnes and Noble or whatever they do, excitedly awaiting the strike of the hour when they could lay their hands on what has so fully devastated me tonight. To think that the story was written and we celebrated so early. And tomorrow I will be mourning, and next week, so will so many others. Normally I wouldn't have time to write, as I'd be reading a second time those highly anticipated words. But I can't bring myself to even look at the book as it makes me heave uncontrollably. I don't know that I'll ever bring myself to read this particular book again. I am the world's biggest nerd.