Obsession
More than one person has asked me why I am so obsessed with Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series. How are you so obsessed with a book? How can you read it so many times? Why do you love these characters? Why? There are a plethora of reasons.
You have to understand that my imagination is a powerful thing. God granted me a very vibrant, colorful imagination that I put to good use. It's one of the only sustainable joys that I have. I can escape there, pretend things, love things, be loved. I can picture things as easily as if it were in front of me. So, my imagination is my downfall, I suppose. I was absorbed within the first few pages. I could see the last rays of sunlight when she left Phoenix. I could feel the damp coolness when she arrived in Forks. I suppose, in some aspects, I can relate to Bella, see myself in her and she in me. I can feel her embarrassment at being forced into the spotlight. I can understand the way her mind works. And though I have never known "the glory of first love" I can still feel to the depths of my soul what she's feeling. Her yearning for the impossible, her love of Edward - it's all so real to me when I turn the pages.
I lose myself within the papers covered in ink. I lose track of time and place. When I open the book I'm in Forks. I can feel the rain, the snow, the cold. I can hear the insects in the woods, the birds, the chatter.
You see, it's not only the guy, though he is a big part. It's the realism Stephenie puts into it. Anyone can see themselves there, feel what the characters are feeling, hear their words, feel the touches. It's not just another fantasy novel. It's every girl's fantasy.
And yes, I do love Edward Cullen. You only have to read about him to really love him. To see his reactions to hear what he says. He's a true gentleman, what every girl wishes for and is so certain she'll never get. At least I am. I have been just another plain girl for so many years and to read what he thinks about her, to know that he thinks she's beautiful - it's beyond words.
These are the only books that could make you cry for joy and sorrow in one chapter. To make you feel clumsy and incompetent, but loved anyway within a few paragraphs. It's not the style of writing, it's the writing itself.
I know I'm not explaining myself adequately but I'm trying. It's just too hard to explain what I feel in mere words. I can't describe the rush I get from reading, the pure enjoyment, the feeling of escape, the whirling emotions that spin inside me as I read the pages. I don't think I'll ever be able to convey the exact emotions and feelings. But that's okay. It's enough that I have them. That my God-given imagination allows me to have them.
I hope this helps, at least a little.
Current Mood: 
discontent 
bored
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annoyed