Let's just pretend like this is my actual TBR. Let's just pretend like I don't own way more books that I am not counting towards this stupid arbitrary list that I can tick off so that I feel better about my life and can ignore the looming existential crisis waging war within my psyche. Let's.
Oh yeah and that's an actual photo of my actual house. To tell you the truth, I'm actually homeless. The walls and roof of my so-called house are made out of books. So is all the furniture. I don't have it too shabby if I may say so myself. You may carry on.
