Life Imitating Fiction

So I read these two amazing books, 600+ pages each in two days. Twilight and New Moon by Stephenie Meyer. She’s a down to earth, Mormon kind of girl (she went to Brigam Young, so I am assuming) who writes fantasy fiction about vampires and werewolves. How cool is that. Her books are very angsty, sensual and romantic, yet have no swearing and the word sex has never even been used I don’t think. It’s kind of neat. It makes me think of chivalry and courtly love and the whole "romancer of one’s soul" kind of thing.

Anyway, in this book, or by the second one anyway, the heroine, who finds herself in love with a vampire (and he is a good one, who doesn’t bite people), then finds herself broken when he splits up with her for her own safety. She then starts spending a lot of time with a new boy with a secret of his own and he becomes her best friend. Bella comments on how she feels about the new best friend.

“I remembered wishing that Jacob were my brother. I realized now that all I really wanted was a claim on him. It didn’t feel brotherly when he held me like this. It just felt nice-warm and comforting and familiar. Safe. Jacob was a safe harbor. I could stake a claim. I had that much within my power… Would it be so wrong to try to make Jacob happy? Even if the love I felt for him was no more than a weak echo of what I was capable of, even if my heart was far away, wandering and grieving after my fickle Romeo, would it be so wrong?”

There is no fickle Romeo in my life, and not exactly a Jacob either, but I felt this passage, all the way down to my soul. I feel like the echo.

I’m not sure what to do with that picture, now that I have it.