Saturday, June 1, 2013

A Time Out

Here I am, three days left before my book is due, cramming it in so I can finish it. I've found that I've reached that point where you're past the point of no return, when you've fully and over the top have invested yourself into your book. I'm overwhelmed, questioning myself, reintroducing myself to my life, my friends, my goals and motives. I know it happens to other people and it's not just me. But when it happens, I always come to the conclusion that I'm losing my sanity. How can someone so easily and simply lose themselves. It puts a whole new meaning the phrase "to lose yourself in a book". I haven't truly lost myself, that I know. This happens frequently enough that I know the how it goes. I have this day, sometimes days of thinking this story, this book is my life and then I keep reminding myself what is reality and what is fiction.
It's bittersweet. But I fear that only people who read at the high frequency that I do understand. And I'm also a person who tends to over invest myself into things. Stories, books, promises, the news, documentaries, you name it.
It got pretty bad though. Especially with this book, so unlike my typical girly completely fiction books that are usually aimed a young adults (it's a sad confession and guilty pleasure of mine where I have my totally generic and cliche girly feelings and thoughts). There's a love story, which is what got me so far into this deep void that creates this temporary insanity. I was happily committed to finding out how this beloved wife of a husband with a failed marriage was murdered. It was touching, uplifting, inspiring, dreadful, sad, and eye-opening all at the same time. And then BANG. Like a gunshot straight into my heart and to my brain it changed. This beloved wife is conniving, manipulative and playing with my emotions. I was on her team and she knew it and she played me. And this husband who was meant to be this image of a man that you dislike and distrust was the same image but at least you sympathize with him because you realize the person who he was actually married to. Whatever, I'm ruining this story, and without any spoiler-alerts provided beforehand.
When I get to points like this that almost always arrive with the head-over-heals and abuse relationship I develop with every new book, I look at my life and try to see it from another view. Sometimes it's not a good view.... well when I say sometimes I mean it's almost pretty close to very likely. But I realized one thing in particular.
I was seconds away from texting my best friend to admit this to her and I thought "What better way to express this crazy collection of thoughts than to blog it out. Maybe it'll help...maybe I'll write something actually thought provoking, maybe I'll be enlightening to myself." Whatever may happen with this blog, I figured I might as well do something to get myself to do something other than look at one more God damn page of this God forsaken book.
I won't relay to you the connection of thoughts I had to direct me to this conclusion. It's boring and irrelevant and I'm sure boring. But with my best friend, we've both realized that our significant others are almost mirror images of each other, personality wise. My boyfriend is like hers and her boyfriend is like me, give or take a few traits. I was thinking to text her something along the lines of "If you were a boy, I would date you in a second. And I would never break up with you". I mean, essentially, that's what a best friend is, right? Someone you could be with for the rest of your life and still love unconditionally and never want to rid yourself of them. I mean there's always those annoyances that come up in any relationship, but those are expected in friendships, significant others, family members, co-workers, etc. But you love that person so much and to the extent that you don't care. You put up with the annoyances because you realize that this person has flaws like every other human being but you still don't hold it against them. You still love them and wish the best and want them to be happy and want to be apart of their lives so you can share happy moments together and be there for each other. So my best friend, Danielle Worthman, is a person that I feel vulnerable enough at this moment enough to say now that I would spend the rest of my life with her, as her best friend of course. Though she is perfect for me in every way possible, I obviously lack the sexual attraction (though she is beautiful) and I lack the "lesbian" gene (Offensive term, but my bio-science professor kept calling the gene that makes a person gay the "gay gene", and I've realized no one would know the scientific term anyways so it's just easier and quicker. Not saying easier and quicker are excuses, but in this sense I just want to get back onto topic). Anyways, I was going to tell her that I wish we could date because it would just be perfect. And even though we had previously stated how interesting it is that we match each other's significant other, I never once truly thought about the whole "why?" part of that observation.
I guess that's all I really had to say with that. It's the little things that when I get into this mood, I over-analyze everything. And though I've heard  over-analysations can lead to the creation of non-existent issues, it can always help solve some questions you've never even known that you've had. Or just solve questions that you never even cared or bothered or wanted to ask.

I'm sorry I sound so deeply profound and moody and artsy fartsy. I'm not always like this. But like I said, it's these gosh dang books. God, do I love them and what they do to me. But they can tear you apart into tiny shreds of mixed up emotions and lead you to an insanity where you have an infinite amount of thoughts running towards, away and parallel to each other all at the same moment over and over and over again. And then when you get to the end of the book (given it be a good, caring, and aware of your emotions kind of book) it will put you to one piece again. I still find that when I'm whole again I still have these thoughts driving me straight to the closest asylum, but I hope with this book, it will make me feel less insane than I feel now.

Wow this sounds pathetic. But I love books. They are an art to me. And when put into words, people who don't understand will see me as being over dramatic and...well...insane. But this is my life. This is my brain. These are my thoughts and these are my feelings.If emotions could be controlled, God what a life I would live. But frankly, my feelings have no off button and neither does my constantly growing curiosity  So here I go back into the void... well maybe after I eat and take a nap.

May your stories lead you to only a fleeting moment of insanity.

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