Fiction

I've been reading "adam bede" by George Eliot. Earlier, I was reading and I felt overwhelmed at the language but now when I was sitting in bed attempting to sink into the world of the book it began to take shape, simply because it's far from my own.

escapism.

That is what fiction is all about--living vicariously through a character; simulation of experiences, falls, and courageous actions. I need a little more Elizabeth in my own personality

I just feel tired. tired to the point of psuedo apathy. I can't truthfully say i'm apathetic although that's disappointing in itself, i wish i was. I try to say "i don't care" whether it be in reference to what shoes my brother buys, whether or not I see Eric, or whether or not I care about what happened with my father. The brutal truth is that i'm a stranger in my own body. I kept pulling away from Eric tonight because I just wanted to crawl into my apartment and just sit where I wouldn't be bothered. Everything is irritating. Life is irritating because i cannot seem to do anything right. I'm irritated that i'm irritated--attempting to feel normal because coincidentally nobody else felt like going out tonight. i can hide under the facade of being tired from work or just overwhelmed with school but it's so far beyond that. I think i need to talk to someone, i'm just...inexplicably uninterested and foreign.

I wrestle with it because on one hand I really need to talk to someone and feel that i'm not a depressive headcase and that stuff like this happens...but on the other i hate talking and feeling like someone is thinking "thank god that's not happening to me and her life sucks" it's just so unproductive to talk to someone who has no idea or real care of what you're going through. I almost want someone to be like "I know you better than that, and you may be trying to come off cool and collected but I see in your little compulsions that you're falling apart--don't worry though i'll glue you back together"

I'm even tempted to erase this whole thing because I dont want to feel this way or have real problems. I know that i'm blessed in alot of ways..I have great friends, intelligence, opportunities and a fortunate family..but at the end of the day it's just me and my thoughts. I have nightmares and yesterday I could run all I wanted but i couldn't shake them off me.


I just really don't know anymore and it seems easy to say all things pass..I know all the stock quotes..I tell myself things..there's always tomorrow--i'm right where I want to be--everything happens for a reason. but sometimes life is a bitch. It hurts while its happening..but we lick our wounds