I Belong Wherever I Want To Be.

Um, Bella? You've Got A Huge Cut On Your Forehead, And It's Gushing Blood," He Informed Me. I Clapped My Hand Over My Head. Sure Enough, It Was Wet And Sticky. I Could Smell Nothing But The Damp Moss On My Face, And That Held Off The Nausea. Oh, I'm So Sorry, Jacob." I Pushed Hard Against The Gash, As If I Could Force The Blood Back Inside My Head. Why Are You Apologizing For Bleeding?" He Wondered As He Wrapped A Long Arm Around My Waist And And Pulled Me To My Feet.

I Stared Into Her Eyes, Wide Under The Thick Fringe Of Lashes, And Yearned For Sleep. Not For Oblivion, As I Had Before, Not To Escape Boredom, But Because I Wanted To *dream*. Maybe, If I Could Be Unconscious, If I Could Dream, I Could Live For A Few Hours In A World Where She And I Could Be Together. She Dreamed Of Me. I Wanted To Dream Of Her.

Why Does Ian Think I Have To Kiss You?

My First Feeling Was That There Was No Way To Continue. Writing Isn't Like Math;in Math, Two Plus Two Always Equals Four No Matter What Your Mood Is Like. With Writing, The Way You Feel Changes Everything.

If You Throw A Frog In A Pot Of Boiling Water, It Will Hop Right Out. But If You Put That Frog In A Pot Of Tepid Water And Slowly Warm It, The Frog Doesn't Figure Out What Going On Until It's Too Late. Boiled Frog. It's Just A Metter Of Working By Slow Degrees.