hm. yeah. this one's the worst one.
Almost Home was hard. Devil's Knot was hard (and infuriating, the amount of times I had to just. put the book down and stare at the ceiling for a while was actually astounding, as were the amount of times I just wrote 'bitch' or 'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA' in the margins). But somehow, Dark Spell has been the hardest to get through. I'm not saying it's bad because it's not, when I mean the worst one I mean it gives me anxiety. At this point I'm about fifty pages in, and it is rough.
I'm finding myself skimming, a little. But it's not like a 'I want this to be over' skim, unless it sort of is--what I mean is, it's more of a 'I don't think my heart can take reading every word' kind of skim. I'm not even in the really bad part yet, this is still pre-trial. This case is kind of emotionally ruining me, to be completely honest, but the prospect of caring about something so much keeps me solidly in. And like, if it starts getting too rough I end up checking Jason Baldwin's instagram to reassure myself, okay, it's fine, well it's not fine, but they're out, look, cats, look he's married and they're real cute together and it's all happy, shit those are some cute cats.
It's the point where I don't really want to pick it up. It makes my chest feel fragile. It makes my ribcage feel like glass. I look over and see the cover and my heart rate jumps. My heart rate is generally rests around 65ish but after I read part of this stupid book it jumps up at least ten bpm more. So like that's not great.
I'm graduating this year. Graduating college. I'll have an English degree, minors in French and History and Creative Writing, the holy trifecta of Useless. I don't know what I'm doing with my life. The only thing I've loved enough to keep doing more than a solid six months has been writing, but if I never get published or anything that's just for me, which is like, fine, I mean, I enjoy it enough that I would definitely continue to write if it was just for me, but i don't know if anything's consumed me as much as this ever. I realize it's been a month, so I've still got about five months left on my timer of 'how long Aurora cares about something', but shit, dude, I wrote a NaNo project based on this whole thing, a full 100k, in 12 days. Like that's not even two weeks. I wrote 50k in four days. That's gotta mean something.
And maybe this will eventually fall back. Maybe I'll finish this research and then put it aside and eventually it'll just be a, oh, right, that thing I cared about senior year of college. Maybe every once in a while I'll see Instagram posts and get that shot of bittersweet straight to my heart, but it'll be less consuming. I mean, hopefully at some point it becomes less consuming because like, this is getting kind of ridiculous, but shit, dude. It's that weird balance of 'this isn't great or probably healthy' and that high of 'I care about something holy shit I care about something.'
About two hundred and fifty pages left, though. And then we can go live in Damien-land for a while, which makes me sad but doesn't like. Hurt me like this.
I'm finding myself skimming, a little. But it's not like a 'I want this to be over' skim, unless it sort of is--what I mean is, it's more of a 'I don't think my heart can take reading every word' kind of skim. I'm not even in the really bad part yet, this is still pre-trial. This case is kind of emotionally ruining me, to be completely honest, but the prospect of caring about something so much keeps me solidly in. And like, if it starts getting too rough I end up checking Jason Baldwin's instagram to reassure myself, okay, it's fine, well it's not fine, but they're out, look, cats, look he's married and they're real cute together and it's all happy, shit those are some cute cats.
It's the point where I don't really want to pick it up. It makes my chest feel fragile. It makes my ribcage feel like glass. I look over and see the cover and my heart rate jumps. My heart rate is generally rests around 65ish but after I read part of this stupid book it jumps up at least ten bpm more. So like that's not great.
I'm graduating this year. Graduating college. I'll have an English degree, minors in French and History and Creative Writing, the holy trifecta of Useless. I don't know what I'm doing with my life. The only thing I've loved enough to keep doing more than a solid six months has been writing, but if I never get published or anything that's just for me, which is like, fine, I mean, I enjoy it enough that I would definitely continue to write if it was just for me, but i don't know if anything's consumed me as much as this ever. I realize it's been a month, so I've still got about five months left on my timer of 'how long Aurora cares about something', but shit, dude, I wrote a NaNo project based on this whole thing, a full 100k, in 12 days. Like that's not even two weeks. I wrote 50k in four days. That's gotta mean something.
And maybe this will eventually fall back. Maybe I'll finish this research and then put it aside and eventually it'll just be a, oh, right, that thing I cared about senior year of college. Maybe every once in a while I'll see Instagram posts and get that shot of bittersweet straight to my heart, but it'll be less consuming. I mean, hopefully at some point it becomes less consuming because like, this is getting kind of ridiculous, but shit, dude. It's that weird balance of 'this isn't great or probably healthy' and that high of 'I care about something holy shit I care about something.'
About two hundred and fifty pages left, though. And then we can go live in Damien-land for a while, which makes me sad but doesn't like. Hurt me like this.
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