when your invisible friends are on tv

When I was a kid and I was reading a book I really liked, I could really fly through it. When I reached the final pages, my eyes hit the brakes. I didn’t want the book to end because then the story would be over. So, I would read really slow and take in as much as I could, trying to visualize each moment presented. I knew that as soon as I had to close the book, I would miss the characters who had become my friends.

I actually still do that. Each time I opened the next book in Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles, I felt this rush of excitement, like I was getting back together with my friends. Maybe that is one of the reasons the world loves the Harry Potter series so much. Harry and his friends are very likable, and if you’ve read the books, you know how horrible his muggle family is. Your heart breaks for him, and you develop a bond that can’t really be explained.

Even this weekend, I saw a preview for the film version of "Rent," and I got all emotional, seeing these people who I have cared about and sang with for years. It was like seeing your friends at a reunion and marveling at how they've changed over the years.

When I was probably 10 or 11 years old, I started reading this series of books called “Couples.” At the time, I thought they were awesome. Now, I believe they were probably published by the same ring of conservative monsters who conspire to inject young girls with the ideals of love, marriage and doing anything possible to make the man of your dreams fall in love with you. Yes, the same wackos who brought the “Tiger Beat” and “Big Bopper” magazine rags to your local newsstand. (I have a long history of despising these pathetic creations – I’ll have to save it for another entry.)

The Couples series was made up of 30-something books that was like one huge, epic “Melrose Place.” In the first book, the reader met most of the characters, a group of friends that undoubtedly included the cheerleader, the football player, the Goth girl, the editor of the school newspaper, the misunderstood artist/musician, the well-meaning nerd, the rebel hottie, etc. Each subsequent novel introduced new flames, crushes, infidelities, heartbreaks and those first kisses you could feel in your toes.

I loved these books because no matter when you dusted off the next one, you could pick up where you left off. Your old pals were just waiting for you on the shelf, and they weren’t upset because you hadn’t called in months. They didn’t go off and get married or have kids while you were busy at work. Their lives were suspended and silent, leaving me guilt-free to focus on the main character of my own existence.

TV series are kind of the same in that we’re sad when our favorite characters die or the show ends completely. If you’re a fan of “Six Feet Under,” you’re hurting right now. I don’t want the show to end, and yet, it is almost painful to watch. I can’t take any more bad things happening to this family. I’m afraid to watch, for fear of living through another tragedy. And yet, like a family member, I am compelled to experience it right next to them; wanting to hug them and provide comfort and reassurance. I can’t let go because I care too much about what happens to them.

I haven’t decided if I’m sick, watch too much television and am far too sensitive to survive in this world, or if I am just damn lucky because I feel things so intensely. As the only student in my entire AP English class who raised her hand when Mr. Charlton asked who wanted to date Holden Caulfield, I’d have to say that it’s probably a wee bit of both.