Was It Really This Easy, Once You

This Is Personal, She'd Said. Real. This Moment Was Too, Even If You Couldn't See It At First Glance. It Was Fake On The Outside, But So True Within. You Only Had To Look, Really Look To Tell.

She Said Writting Novels Was Like Childbirth: If You Truly Remembered How Awful It Got, You'd Never Do It Again.

I'd Been Convinced I Was On The Outside, But Really, I'd Always Been Within Arm's Reach. All I Had To Do Was Ask, And I, Too, Would Be Easily Brought Back, Surrounded And Immersed, Finding Myself Safe, Somewhere In Between.

I Really Just Love To Read, Period, Whether It Be Books Or Magazines Or The Back Of The Cereal Box. It's The One Thing I Can Always Count On To Calm Me Down, Take Me Away And Inspire Me, All At Once.

All I'd Wanted For So Long Was For Someone To Explain Everything That Had Happened To Me In This Same Way. To Label It Neatly On A Page: This Leads To This Leads To This.