If I could give this book more stars, I would.
Reading a book the second time gives you room to realize things you didn't before. Like entering a familiar setting—you have the basics, but there's always something new to discover.
This book did the same thing to me it did last time: tied me in with the characters, tore me apart, and then stitched me back together. (There's an ache in my chest now, as if I left some of my heart with Maddie and the others.) But it gave me extra, too. I understood things I hadn't before, deeper themes and underlying emotions. I realized that the reason I love this book so much is because Maddie is me; if I were to write myself as a child, I would look just like her. I didn't annotate, but so many times my fingers itched for a pencil because the paragraph I'd just read was a feeling I'd always experienced but never described.
Maddie said, in the story, that whenever she walked through a new door, she was always looking for someone who felt like home. That's what I look for when I pick up a new book—a home, a comfortable place that makes room for me and my mixed-up self. Where I'd Like to Be is exactly that, and I hope to return to it many more times.