"all of your writing" he stated, "is about relationships. one on one relationships." he pointed to her third entry of the semester. "this one has some children in it, but it's a vague reference. It’s ultimately about the progression of the same two people." he seemed slightly concerned, "why do you think that is?" as if he expected her to divulge some angst-ridden tale of unrequited novel-worthy affection. there was no such tale.
she gave him a processed answer along the lines of "relationship dynamics are interesting for readers."
the truth was that she never have enough time to create her own relationships.
the truth was that she took ideas from overheard conversations for her writing. That she disguised a bit of herself in all her protagonists and called it fiction so that no one could feel sorry for her.
the truth remains that she had never loved anyone well enough to be worthy of a novel.
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