...makes me forget who I am.No,seriously,I feel like I've temporarily lost my identity and replaced it with whatever ideas,emotions,situations I've experienced while reading.And it feels really weird,I'll give you that...
Actually,it's kind of funny and amazing how we're the sum of books and music and movies and days and nights and people and places,all through which we've lived and somehow still do...
Anyway,it's been a while since I've last been so engorged by a piece of writing that actually has a proper name on the cover or an actual cover (*wink wink*).
On the one hand,I'm thrilled because now I feel like I've drunk 100 coffees worth of energy and illumination and that's how good literature should feel like.On the other,it's depressing as fuck to know I'll never be a published author or a good one,for that matter.Considering even the last shred of pride I had went to Hell,it seems I'm putting pen to paper just to pass the time nowadays...
Fact: it's easier to read a story than to write one,especially when it keeps eluding you and never going quite where you'd expect it to go.
Taking that into account,I dare consider this a fulfilling day,even though it's not over yet and we all know what sort of luck I have.I've learned something,I did my "around the house" chores and managed to see the sunlight.
This should definitely happen again...
P.S. "Will Grayson,Will Grayson"-John Green and David Levithan
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