I finally finished the book I’ve been reading.  Now that I’m through, I can almost relate how I felt reading it to how I feel in life right now… and that would be antsy. I could not seem to read fast enough. Every time I turned the page, I’d cross my fingers and hope that the series of events and meaning of it all would finally make sense to me. That something would happen to reassure me that the story was, in fact, going anywhere at all.