I dunno if I should do this at the end of year or now. The fact that I'm writing in spite of the thought means you already know what I'm going with. Thank you subconscious, you are definitely the more decisive one in comparison with your physical counterpart who is clearly a fickle-minded schoolgirl. Damn you Fakhrol.
Anyways, true to my fickle schoolgirl nature. I have officiated 2016 with a love story novel. This Is A Love Story by Jessica Thompson. I was so damn annoyed the entire time I was reading this, well alrite, halfway through the second half. God. Grow some fucking balls already goddamnit! Alrite anymore beans spilling would spoil it for those of you who might have too many time on their hands and might wish to read this.
Plus, I don't think the ball-less-ness situation is conjured by the author entirely for sake of pulling the readers. There are a certain degrees of truth in it as well. Heck, it took me.. Well, that's another story for another time (or dimension, well hello Matthew McCounaghey!). So I kinda can forgive him.
So that's my first book for 2016. Better log it now before I fucking forgot. Well, my second book... Damn. I finally know now that I'm such a fucking gooey at heart. OK, I lied, I've already known it for a long time. Well, my second book is titled 'The Two of Us', Damn. I concede I am a little embarrassed to a admit that. More on that on my second log of 2016.
Two books. Half a year. Hrm.