If I had to choose between writing my own blog and reading others, I don’t think I could.
They’d warned us it was happening. We’d seen it too. We just didn’t know when it would actually happen. What we did know was that we’d had a string of natural disasters in quick succession, one after the other. We’d exhausted almost all of our resources in the aftermath of those. Now we were just watching and waiting for the big one. I could feel the tension in my bones; whatever was about to happen, it wouldn’t be pretty. It would destroy everything.
Another thing about fiction: the boys. They’re always attractive: good-looking, daring, protective of their girlfriend, and caring. Not at all pushy – they won’t make her do something she doesn’t want to. They love her so much they do anything to keep her. Of course, most fictional couples fight about something, but they are almost always able to work through the issue.
This sets the average fangirl’s expectations pretty high, and most real guys unfortunately fall short. Fictional boys are able to warp a girl’s mind and obliterate any previous standards for a boyfriend. in order to find love in the real world, girls cannot let fictional standards take over their brain. They cannot compare fictional boys to real ones. It’s not a fair comparison. The most important thing may be that they need to stop thinking “Why am I the only one who doesn’t have a boyfriend?” and let love take them by surprise.
I know I originally said I like fiction because it’s nice to forget reality, but fiction also has a darker side. Some books are too perfect. Sure, they have their rollercoaster of feels and plot twists like any other book. However, these “perfect” books end with “Happily Ever After” – particularly if your name is Stephenie Meyer.* So I guess what I’m trying to say is I like fiction because it helps me cope with reality, but it also hurts because I wish fiction was reality and I didn’t have to deal with certain things in my life.
*More on this in a later post