I just finished reading the Bell Jar by Sylvia plath. I had never considered reading this book before. I thought that Plath was purely for literary intellects who had nothing better to do but sit in coffee shops with their books, looking important. I quite like the book so far though. It reminds me of how I often think. There are particular paragraphs in it so far that I have enjoyed for various reasons.
"There is something demoralizing about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only extra person in the room. It’s like watching Paris from an express caboose heading in the opposite direction – Every second the city gets smaller and smaller, only you feel it's really you getting smaller and smaller and lonelier and lonelier, rushing away from all those lights and that excitement at about a million miles an hour"
This pretty much sums up how I feel when I look at everyone else, my friends around me, people in the street, all couples. It's as though the whole world has been paired off and they left an odd one out. It's like when you get put into pairs in your lectures and there's one left over and you end up with the teacher. It seems the same with relationships. I have to sit here, watching my friends with their loves and complete strangers holding hands and whispering in each others ear, making me feel invisible. It's like some secret society I desperately want to be a part of. I sit around watching all of the pairings hoping that there is someone feeling as lonely and desolate as I do, some mildly attractive, most likely boring man that I have to settle for because the normal dating rules don't apply to me.
"I opened the door and blinked out into the bright hall. I had the impression that it wasn't night and it wasn't day but some third interval that had suddenly slipped between them and would never end"
My haven. The time in which people know the least about each other. When we are merely silhouettes in the tarnished light of the sky. Eyes connect with each other from across a croweded room. A time where we are able to dissolve into the atmosphere and forget we exist.
[Unfinished]
