I read about his sister. I read about the two people who stumbled upon him at his brother's party when he was young. I read about the pretty girl with the green eyes. I read about the talkative girl who fought causes and talked about women's rights. I read about the best friend who killed himself. I read about HIM, the main protagonist. And I connected to all of it, all of them. It's when you can read about fictional people and REALLY want to tell them, "It's okay. I know how you feel."
But they are nothing more than two-dimensional characters, trapped in the pages of a book. However, someone had to create them, right? Someone had to construct the plot, dictate and decide what happens to these people. And if someone came up with all this, then there must be other people who live through all these experiences. And, in the end, we are not alone. We are just similar individuals scattered all around the world. And, when we want to relate, it doesn't always have to be a method involving physical presence.
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