I wish I was an author, or an artist of some sort. When I read books, listen to music, see art, I feel like they are conveying my thoughts exactly and I only wish I could write with such eloquence or express my thoughts with such clarity.
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"What was it inside me that turned pursuit and clutching into love, and then turned it inside out again? What was it that had turned winning into losing, and losing-who knows-into winning? I was sure I had lover her, and I knew that it would be a long while before I made love to anyone the way I had made love to her. With anyone else, could I summon up such a passion? Whatever spawned my love for her, had that spawned such lust too? If she had only been slightly not her... but then would I have loved her? I looked hard at the image of me, at that darkening of the glass, and then my gaze pushed through it, over the cool floor, to a broken wall of books, imperfectly shelved." - Phillip Roth, Goodbye Columbus
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I haven't told anybody in my family for fear that they'll just take it as another faillure of mine. They never offer the emotional support I need anyways, but are always quick to stab home the criticism, the worry, and the fear. Thank God my roommates are so good. I'm not over it yet either, I hope it doesn't take too long.
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