Post reading depression

When you're so engrossed in a book that when you finish it, you become disoriented. You forget the time and where you are, what was happening. You completely stop time, block out everything else in this world, only to be sucked in to another. There is only you and that book, the one that meant more to you than the author probably thought. You cry during the sad parts, laugh with the characters as if they were conversing with you, get scared and worried for them too. They would be your companions. You’d share a special relationship with them, for hours, even for days. But then you would only know them until where the author allows you to, nothing more but vast emptiness beyond the ending. You’re left to think that there wouldn’t be bad days, that everything would be okay from that point on. You believe that the characters exist somewhere. They couldn’t just be built from paper, not after the way they made you feel and how vivid it was. You would get plagued with the hope that somehow "this might happen to me too". But it wouldn’t. No not really, because in reality if life were a novel, it would just end at the good parts with nothing to look forward to, frozen in utmost bliss. We’d be nothing more than cardboard cutouts, a representation of something vital and yet lifeless at the same time.

I'm sorry, but I am really devastated now that the book I've been reading ended. I can't take the deprivation. :(