She hears things, but they're not there. She sees things, but no one else does. She's an author, and she writes their stories.
~*~ From the Introduction ~*~
I was done living the lie. I was done hiding from who I really am. I was done hiding from the life that truly belongs to me. Now that I’ve stopped this type of insanity, and embraced what is real and what is true, I feel a new kind of freedom and acceptance. I can breath freely, without a weight upon my chest. I can speak freely, without a lock on my tongue. I can think clearly, without doors closing on my thoughts or feeling the need to edit them. I can be honest about myself, my life, and who I am.
~*~ From day 3's writing (unknown placement) ~*~
I’ve talked to another close friend about this, and he was as helpful as he could be considering he doesn’t have an inside-track on the madness I call my mind.
“What should I do? Should I just write and ignore everything else?”
”That’s it – just yes?”
“You’re no help at all. What do I do when I start writing, think it’s my plot, and it turns out to be someone who hasn’t revealed themselves yet?”
”Fine. Eat your cheesecake. Do you want another slice?”
See what I mean? He can do that to me with a straight face, too, while his boyfriend laughs at the two of us in the background. My urge is to flick my fork full of cheesecake at him, but I love him too much . . . and I love my cheesecake too much.
~*~ From day 5's writing (unknown placement) ~*~
“Have you ever thought of becoming a paranormal investigator?”
”Why would I want to do that?”
”Because you can.”
”Let’s think about this for a moment, shall we? I already have waiters lining up and watchers wanting me to write their stories RIGHT now. Why would I want to investigate other spirits to invite into this madness?”
All I can do is sigh.