I read the belljar last year and it didn't make any sense, although I did enjoy it in a reading fiction sort of way. She's not even trying, I thought. Even when she finally goes to the beach, she's not making any effort, she's deliberatly staying miserable. Everyone gets into ruts, you have to pull yourself out of them. Put some effort into it.But here I am becoming little miss antisocial - passing up invitations and refusing to answer the telephone and not signing into msn - waiting for someone else to come and save me, to sort me out, to answer all my questions and make life make sense and it's not going to happen, is it? Holiday's are such an unhealthy time. In termtime I have to force myself to leave the house five times a week, however antisocial I'm feeling. In the holidays I don't, I stay here and fester in my own confusion until facing people seems impossible. Part of growing up, I think, is learning that no one can save you from the consequences of your own mistakes.
< - >
* the marks of memories forgotten
* wasting emotions, over again
* intentions, and such
* nothing unusual, nothing's changed - just a little older, that's all (damien rice : amie)
* now I understand! It doesn't make sense because it isn't supposed to
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