Why Am I Not Asleep

It's hard to tell, sometimes, what the emotions are. Eventually I just feel so frustrated with all of the beautiful things I've collected that I just want to shed it like a snakeskin. Illogical, I know, but that's me.

I just finished reading a book that genuinely frustrated me. At the start I was all, "Wow. The writing is a little Gossip Girl for my taste, but alright. Plot seems interesting enough." And, chapter by chapter, the main character of the book transformed from the girl I used to be (but worse, and stupider) into the girl I strive to become (except she dies so not that part just yet). Sure, perhaps the author used the same simile twice on the same page for two different things, and maybe she described beautiful things with the same word too often to fully encompass the multi-faceted beauty of truly beautiful things. Those are my futile criticisms of an already-published book. But phrases began to appear from dreams and idle wonderings that I've had about the universe, and the nature of the connection between people.

I've always had this vague but lovely image of tiny silver threads connecting all of us, representing our intricate and incomprehensible fates. This is referenced in the book, along with a ton of other things my mother talks about and I have to jog to understand.

Even near the end, when the romance was getting a little cheesy (because it reminded me of some of the stuff I used to write when I was younger, maybe) it still made me cry. I feel connected to the characters. I feel like I was one of them, come to think of it.

Anyways, it's 4:30 in the morning now. Happy days to you.