In the Lives of Puppets

Feelings so subtle that you don't notice they are gently wrapping around your heart getting tighter and tighter until you are crying and can't stop crying. The happiness is also sadness. Just at or slightly below the surface, rarely overwhelming you but never gone. Not sad enough to die but not happy enough to live. Just waiting for the clouds to part for a bit so you can feel the fleeting warmth of the sun on your face before it is gone again. I'm angry at the sadness.

Finishing books like this, that touch my soul, is a sort of death. T.J.'s stories always touch my soul, but this one especially. Especially.

It was also very funny but right now I'm just feeling sad.