It's like this. When you're reading a fictional book and you come to realize how much pain, or happiness, or confusion, or whatever emotion you feel because of reading those words doesn't match those feelings of the people you're reading about. What I'm talking about about applies mostly to the pain and the torment of those characters. be it over death, lost love, whatever. You think, it's not fair of me to think that this is insufferable and that i simply can't go on living from this point. This pain I feel is far too much, but it's not fair of me to think this way when the people i'm reading about felt it so much more. But then at some point you realize what's really not fair about the entire situation is that those people you feel sorry for, don't exist. That's what isn't fair. When reading a book you become so invested in those characters that those loses become your own. What's unfair is that those people never had to feel this pain, because they simply never existed. Fiction simply means not real. so how is it fair that after reading a fairly emotional book the reader is inclined to feel such horrific fake emotions? It's not.
Mostly it's just not fair that the characters didn't exist. I simply can't go on living in a world were Rudy Steiner didn't live and die in love with his best friend. Where Liesel never housed a Jew or adored her Papa.
It is simply maddening. The emotions you harbor over something you simply can't control. Something that you made yourself a part of just by witnessing. Only this time those people do feel the loss, because this isn't fiction. And this time it really isn't fair for me to have a rip in my heart and complain about how much it hurts. I know it hurts them more. But it's still going to come to the realization that what I loved so much doesn't exist anymore, and it's just not fair.