It's funny how, having finally experienced some moments of that wrenching thing called Life, I see my own life in nearly every piece of media having to do with relationships that I come across. That's the mark of a good story, of course, but I haven't felt so (uncomfortably, terribly, importantly, confusingly, reassuringly) close to a fictional character in a long time, until the past six weeks in my real existence have proven themselves full of That Human Drama That Novelists and Script-Writers Thrive On.
Which all just goes to show that I am as fallibly human as everybody else.
...and we'll just gloss over the fact that all three of the stories I have in mind have to do with selfish and egoistic young single women living in British or Irish manor houses.
FEELINGZ: I haz them in abundance.
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