There are days when I want to be invisible.
There are days when I don't care how much I've angered him.
There are days when I continue being irrational.
There are days when I want to be antisocial.
There are days when I want to be alone.
There are days when I pretend. To be happy. To be content. All the things the books say.
There are days when I want to feel something intense.
There are days when I want to drown in busy schedules.
But in the end there is nothing, so I continue to doing all the above.
I wonder if that makes sense to anyone but me.
On a lighter note, I've finished The Perks of being a Wallflower and The Sense of an Ending recently. On my self-declared break before I started drafting a study schedule to follow (which is finally functioning now that trials is so near). The insight of both these books are quite profound. So many paragraphs worth quoting. I also bought The Virgin Suicides at the book fair in college, full of intrigue with bits and pieces of social commentary that I quite like.
Please believe that things are good with me, and even when they’re not, they will be soon enough.