So I haven't written anything for a bit. I have read several more books. I am still a hopeless romantic! I want to travel somewhere quiet, and try to find myself. Now I've read 2 books that take place in Ireland, and I want to go to a secluded place there! Why can't my life work itself out like a romantic novel? I spend my life stuck in another persons brain! The characters are so real. I realise that is the point, but I want that for myself as well. I haven't given up yet, but it's getting pretty hedgy. Maybe I will go somewhere this year, by myself, and see what I can make of it!