My heart is broken.
No, not even a boy can make my heart hurt like this.
This is pain that only literature can invoke.
It has definitely made the world a lonelier place. For those of you that have read HP6 you know what I mean. For those who haven't, I won't spoil it, of course, because there's nothing I hate more than someone ruining a story.
On to reality my own book is coming along swimmingly. I've been writing so much I have calluses on my fingers (it's gross and un-ninalike, I know) from writing the old-fashioned way because the laptop is too temper-mental. What are a few calluses to a future literary icon? haha they'll just show how hard I've worked to get to my goal. My characters aren't quite developing the way I had hoped, so I'm going to have to make some revisions... but I won't go into that.
I'm going to wallow in literary sadness and read HP6 again, slower this time.