Tired Of Living In Fiction Novels & Stories

There was a chance that the marking wouldn’t work because she was human and honestly as much as it pained me it would probably be for the best if it didn’t. An hour later we were in the jet ready to take off and go back to the real world that was our lives and I felt dread in the pit of my stomach. My appetite was gone but Finley ate breakfast on the jet as if she hadn’t eaten the whole weekend. “Do you ever think about the reality of the things you write?” I asked her. “There is no reality in what I write Damon, that’s why it’s called fiction,” she said as she made herself more comfortable on the leather chair.

Though he has stopped monitoring the island every moment… The world that was crazed with digitalization had finally learnt to take a break, to talk, to love, to feel, to unplug but how long this change will last only future can tell…. Authors note: I hope you enjoyed reading Fictitious Reality. It often becomes difficult to distinguish between Fiction and Reality. In such times we should not panic. We should use our wit and reasoning to make the right judgement. Do let me know what you think about this book through COMMENTS and REVIEWS.

It's all a fantasy. Fable has been my escape. An unhealthy one. A safe pretend world where I could bury myself. Just like how Zee cried after she finished the final Harry Potter book, or how Jamie bases so much of her worth on the fictional version of herself that lives across a thousand Instagram pics, in the comments and likes of a thousand strangers. Just carefully constructed lies to comfort and lull. Dreams.

>>The world is much bigger and more beautiful than this, Oli. Some of my stories are fiction; they don't exist, but others, like today's, are real, and I was hoping you could pay close attention in case I can't escape with you. I need you to remember these indications.

BELLA I know I’ve said this a million times already, but I’m so over this. Tired of being locked up. Tired of staring at the same four walls like some caged animal. Tired of not feeling the sun on my skin, not meeting people who could hold a decent conversation. And, God help me, I was tired of wearing the same damn clothes every single day.

Everyone lived happily ever after a cliched fairy tale, and about King William, you don't want to know where he spends the rest of his life. He's happy near the Jaguar Queen and that's what matters. the end

Doctor Jamal’s words played themselves over and over again in my mind and I fought hard to keep them out, I was too tired for this, I was too tired to think, I was too tired to deal with the world and its bullshit, so I shut the door and everything out like I always did. Tomorrow was sure as hell going to come, and I was tired of putting on a show, I would serve my wretched and broken soul to my fiancée on a silver platter ,if we were going to spend the rest of our lives together I might as well show her the side of me she would be dealing with every day.

My mind was swarming with memories and my eyes were already starting to burn from exhaustion. I felt a sharp pinch in my skin as I looked down to see a needle being injected into my right arm. I felt weak again and slowly I laid back down again. The blackness came for me the third time but at that moment I wanted to bask in it forever because I didn't want to feel like I was alone.

Would there be justice, or just more bloodshed? I closed the book, pressing my fingers to my temples. It was too much. The guilt of feeling relief that Chloe wasn’t here to torment me anymore, the horror of knowing what had happened to her, the constant tension of living in this house—it was all too much. I glanced down at the book in my lap, its glossy cover mocking me. Fiction felt so meaningless when real life was this messy. What was the point of losing myself in someone else’s story when my own was so complicated and terrifying?

I scrolled through my feed until I found a post that reminded me of Justin and the conversation we had last night. I downloaded the post and decided to send it to him now that I had nothing to do at the Diner. It was still empty. "If people ever look down upon you for crying for fictional characters, you should give them a gentle, pitying look and feel bad for them. If they've never cried for a fictional character, then they've never loved one (and what a joy that is). If they've never cried at a book, a movie, or a piece of music, then they've missed one of the great pleasures life has to offer. Just because fiction does not contain things that are real, doesn't mean it doesn't contain the