Comfort food, of sorts

In difficult times, it is, maybe, fairly common to head for things that are comfortable, familiar. In my case, one of those 'comfort foods' is found in literature, in its broadest sense. I've managed, in a short space of time this evening, to find some of my favourite books in online versions, and I'll probably set about reading at least one of them over the next day or two. But, in the short term, I've read Alexandrine yet again (although, to be honest, I'd already begun reading it before the weekend). I know it's only fiction, and, probably, the story of a relationship that could never happen in reality, but I still find myself going back to bask in the warmth of my lovely Xander when I feel the coldness of the world. Would that there could be a real-life analogue, but I know, almost with certainty, that it will never be. My invention, my fictional 'ideal boy' is as close as I will ever get to what I want the most, and, probably, that's as it should be, because the potential for hurt in such a relationship, even if consensual, in real life is too great. When you have almost nothing, in whatever area of life, the significance of the small things you can call your own is magnified, greatly. And I suppose Xander, and my story, are amongst those small, comforting things in my life. Sad, maybe, but true.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B