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03.06.05 - 10:31 p.m.

:Snip:

"Where does loneliness come from...?"

"You're here. You're reading these words. Is this a coincidence? Maybe you think fate is only for others. Maybe you're ashamed to be reading about loneliness - maybe someone will catch you and then they'll know your secret stain. And then maybe you're not even very sure what loneliness is - that's common. We cripple our children for life by not telling them what loneliness is, all of its shades and tones and implications. When it clubs us on the head, usually just after we leave home, we're blindsided. We have no idea what hit us. We think we're diseased, shizoid, bipolar, monstrous and lacking in dietary chromium. It takes us until thirty to figure out what it was that sucked the joy from our youth, that made our brains shriek and burn on the inside, even while our exteriors made us seem as confident and bronzed as Qantas pilots. Loneliness."

From Eleanor Rigby
by Douglas Coupland.

Read the book the day before yesterday, in the car on the way to Bemidji Minnesota. 18 glorious hours in the car looking at a dirty brown world. There was a warm wind, though so there was hint of spring, as if you could feel the world preparing for green.The cold north...just an hour south of the Canadian border. Don't think I didn't think about running to see if the grass was greener...or at least less meaner. I doubt it could really be much different, at least not in front of your face. I'd probably still have the crazy notions I have about other people. I wonder if I think the same about me as a person as I do about most everybody else. Do I not trust myself? Oh god...listen to me. At least I'm not so far gone to see my own drama.

I'm tired but I'm good. Considering. There I go again.

 

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