Jun 12
seen from Philippines
seen from Sri Lanka
seen from Russia
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from Netherlands
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Australia
seen from South Korea
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from T1
seen from Norway
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
Will be resurrecting within 2-3 business days.
I really love my French edition of The Road, plus it was a gift from my best friend (at least I remember being with her at the bookstore and we were tripping over the shiny cover lol). The first and only time I read it, I think it was during my first year living in this house, so maybe about 11 years ago? I probably wrote it inside the book. And I remember posting a picture* of it, but it wasn't on here. Every now and then, I think about reading it again. But I want to read it in English too—was there ever a nice, cheap edition like that? I was listening to someone talk about Blood Meridian, she was praising Cormac McCarthy's writing. I've just had a feeling I would like it. I know I always say this, but I want to read books again.
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*I found the pictures (2) on my old IG account, posted on May 14, 2015.
Seasonal depression in summer not because summer depresses me, but because the thought of it ending makes me want to die.
(Flavours of despair, it's all the same in the end. Tous les chemins y mènent.)
"Hey Google, how do I cope with the impending doom of the summer solstice and the inevitable shortening of days?"
It's a thought I had watching s01e06 of The L word, where Kit takes it upon herself to go and stand up for Bette to their father. That's how I got there. "Oh, I see. I've been a fuck-up to everyone dear to me, like my sister or my best friend. Never showing up. The complete opposite of reliant. But even when you've been this way, and they no longer expect things from you, as long as they're still here, you can always try and reach out, huh. Do something good."
It's been a couple days, I haven't done anything. My sister started her inpatient programme a bit over a week ago, the day after her birthday. And I've never replied to the last message my best friend sent me.
It's my grandmother's 93rd birthday today. She's still alive. And I'm still here, like this.
"I don't have anything to offer." Is that something I've decided for myself or something I'm telling myself? I mean it. I believe it. It's just doesn't feel sincere. Not when it's a conscious thought or declaration, I mean, but I believe it when I look inside. Can I trust myself? Probably not. This is one of those times I picture my body as a broken android doll left on the street, by a pile of trash. (Like in the movie Air Doll. I should re-watch it.)
Maybe it's not too late to do something good...
My mother is in the hospital again. It's just for a sleep study this time, but it came up out of nowhere. And it's just been never-ending this past... I can't even tell how long now.