Just about done Lisey's Story. Didn't think I'd get into at first - but SK's stories are like the first beer of the evening. It's cold and refreshing, then you have another and your body starts to relax. Then the third one gives you just enough of a buzz to wipe away your day and you get sucked into a whole six-pack before you know it. Saving the last few pages of the book for later today. I HATE when the story ends but then they never really end, do they?
I have a Facebook friend. No one knows about him. I write and write and write and tell him all my deep, dark thoughts - and the good ones too. All I get back are a few lol's and a little praise for making his day interesting. I compared him to a pot of chicken soup this morning, the pot that sits in your fridge and forms that gross layer of fat on top. I said I keep scooping and scooping that fat away, but I can't get to the meaty meal beneath, no matter how hard I try. Like he's given me the smallest spoon in the universe and I just can't get through. Everyone is so afraid to have that fat taken off, to let someone share some of that Best Meal Deal. I grow so frustrated being the only one in my little world to want to break through and discuss things bigger than work, bigger than what the kids did at school today, bigger than the deals at the grocery store this week. I trip out to Boo'ya Moon as often as I can and I LOVE sitting beneath the sweetheart trees and drinking from the pool. But I also love the run through the Fairy Forest too, the glorious feeling of fear, of not knowing if I'll make it through alive. Fear is the greatest feeling on earth next to love. Both can make you orgasm. Fear makes you feel alive, though, and THAT'S what SK does for me. Scares me alive.





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