Friday, 30 September 2016

o, brave new world


I'm pretending that I like spring more than I actually do. By drawing on the techniques of Pavlov and indulging in the aspects that give it an aura of clean. White shirts, a pivotal essential from Muji and Silky Underwear from Lush. Already, I'm dreading my skin sticking to chairs as though it's a live-or-die relationship. Simple feats of hypnosis, perhaps it'll get me through the next 6 months. 

I used to be an avid reader. Nowadays, I seem to have to have lost the ability to be sucked into the pages and be lost in the world. I'm half-hoping that it's been my choices that have been less than novel. I've always written stories to pass the time, and lately, I've been dabbling in science fiction - a genre I am extremely out of my depth with. That begs research. So I picked up Brave New World with the wish that it would provide me with enlightening insight. 

I could not recommend a book less. It's meant to be pitiful, the characters seemingly trapped in a 'perfect world'. Of a utopia disguised as dystopia. A promising concept that was befell by a half-assed attempt. How disappointing. But I suppose the book served its purpose if it's caused self reflection. I don't need instant gratification, but I do wish that every action I take had a visible result no matter how slight. It would set my mind at ease, so that I'm not convinced I'm floundering in the dark, hands outstretched and completely missing the light. I'm worried, trapped in my self-awareness but not possessing the energy to affect definite change that will cease all anxiety. 

It's October the first and I can't help that I'm destined for failure. It seems even breaking the chain I inevitably end on the path I sought to stray from. I've been chasing the same lofty goal for years without any progress. Let this be it. 

XX

Jeannie  

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