The Curse of the TBR Pile (aka Mount Never-Ending)

Listen… I didn’t ask for a TBR pile that’s taller than my sanity, but here we are. And don’t get it twisted—it’s not a pile. It’s a mountain range. A sprawling empire. The Great Wall of Goodreads. My Kindle is crying, my shelves are groaning, and I’m still out here saying, “Ooo, pretty cover—add to cart.”

Here’s the unhinged part: the TBR isn’t even the villain. It’s us. We don’t actually want to “finish” it. If we did, what would we even be? Empty-handed? Bookless? A creature wandering the earth with nothing left to read? Babe, that’s not a flex—that’s a horror story.

So I’m declaring peace with my TBR. It’s not Mount Doom, it’s a mood board. A buffet. A never-ending safety net that whispers, “You’ll never be bored again, bestie.” Which means, yes, I will buy that shiny fantasy brick and that weirdly-specific romance about a mortician who finds love (don’t judge). Because maybe I’ll read it tomorrow. Or never. Either way, it’s mine.