My Life And His Were Twisted Into

What's Funny About That Is When I Was Writing Twilight Just For Myself And Not Thinking Of It As A Book, I Was Not Thinking About Publishing, And Yet At The Same Time I Was Casting It In My Head. Because When I Read Books, I See Them Very Visually.

I Tried, After I Wrote 'twilight,' To Read 'the Historian,' Because It Was The Big Thing That Summer. But I Can't Read Other People's Vampires. If It's Too Close, I Get Upset; If It's Too Far Away, I Get Upset. It Just Makes Me Very Neurotic.

But I Love You, “ He Whispered. “doesn't That Matter?” “of Course It Matters. So Much. Can't You See? That Only Makes It More… Necessary.” His Eyes Flashed Open. “is It So Unbearable To Have Me Love You? Is That It? I Can Keep My Mouth Shut, Wanda. I Won't Say It Again. You Can Be With Jared, If That's What You Want. Just Stay.

It Was Nice To Be Alone, Not To Have To Smile And Look Pleased; A Relief To Stare Dejectedly Out The Window At The Sheeting Rain And Let Just A Few Tears Escape.

I Was Thinking About How Disjointedly Time Seemed To Flow, Passing In A Blur At Times, With Single Images Standing Out More Clearly Than Others. And Then, At Other Times, Every Second Was Significant, Etched In My Mind.