So I've discovered a secret....

And that is, pretending to be twitterpated very well might be more fun than actually being twitterpated!
Reasoning:
Your victim love interest never has to be aware that he is a love interest,
Zero drama because nothing actually exists(!)
You can pretend that the one fleeting glance you got was something infinitely deeper, and make up all sorts of sub stories to accompany said look.
Your 'love interest' doesn't even have to stay the same person for more than five minutes! (Five seconds even) :p Find a better one? (Oops!) Drop the last one. See? So convenient.

And thus, my pretending to be twitterpated. Falsely filling voids that I'm forever ignoring.









Also I have a confession of a new(ish) guilty indulgence....

But you have to promise to keep it a secret. Cross your heart?


I may have a new love of reading (past my bedtime no less) with a flashlight in bed.
Does this make me sound like I'm eight years old again? Hiding the beam when I hear footsteps so my mother doesn't find out and scold me? You betcha! I like this finding my inner child.
Wanna know the best part? It's a ridiculously stupid book. Honestly, I struggle sometimes if I let my brain think it's intelligent and decide that my nine year old sister could out write the author. But it's a romance, and it's feeding my fake twitterpation of late. So on with the indulging guiltily past 10:30! (Scandalous. I know.)