I am a lonely person. Some may say it’s my fault, but the truth is, it’s really not. A few suggestions from friends led me to begin reading the series. It was all innocent, and I certainly didn’t think it would ruin my life. But the books have a power of thier own. We were all decieved.
I guess I first realized there was a problem when I first saw the movie. My siblings nearly threw me out of the room when I began having violent fits because Tom Bombidal had been quite unfairly excluded from being recognized onscreen. I still hold to my opinion that it was, by far, the most unjust act that I have ever been unfortunate enough to witness. But the trouble that would destroy my life had only just begun.
After a few weeks my computer desktop was decorated with images of Frodo, Merry, and Pippin. I can’t help it, they’re just so darn cute. My brother would walk past while I surfed the net for info on the hobbit race, and he would roll his eyes, groan, and proclaim me “crazy.” I was still totally oblivious to the fact that I had a problem.
Within a month I was seaking fluent Elvish and discussing whether or not I may be a descendant of the elves. I believe I may be. People have always told me I have pointy ears. I know they were saying it to be mean, but that doesn’t matter. I have also reduced the amount of makeup I have worn, because the elves totally do the natural look, and have been shopping around for the best prices on Galadriel’s dress. You wouldn’t believe how many people have reproduced it. Still I didn’t recognize my problem.
Today, it finally happened. I discovered that my copy of FOTR was missing. I began tugging at my clothes and hair in true distress. I opened kitchen cabinets and dumped out children’s toyboxes in my search. Finall I camer into my sister’s room, where she was lying on her bed, reading The Hobbit. I stared at her for a while, then she looked up and asked what i wanted.
“It has our precioussss, yes” I hissed.
“What are you talking about???”
“It came to us on our birthday. It stole it from us, yes, gollum.”
“Get out of my room!!!”
By this point I am wildly dumping dresser drawers and searching her closet, when I turn around and say,
“What has it got in its pocketses??”
I don’t remember excactly everything that happened after that. But now, sitting in front of the computer, I ponder on how innocently these things began, and how quickly they develop into something bigger. My friends and family are convinced I’m nuts. And today I finally see what they mean. And the saddest part of all is, there’s no hope left. there’s no tolkien Enthusiasts Annonymous. there’s no rehab centers. and we have to live with ourselves forever. If only we had seen it from the beginning.