... 477

I had enough socializing for today. Whenever I overdo with it it always fires back - it makes me think that I'm a normal person just like everybody else and everything is alright with the world. And that sometimes seems to be true except that I'm not and the world is mad as a hatter. My capacity for toleration needs recharging. In Madame Olenska's words "I can't love you unless I give you up."

... 476

This morning on DW I watched a documentary that was about love. The TV crew went to India to make it. They chose India because the ultimate book on love – the Kamasutra, was Indian. One of the people they talked to was a 66 year-old man, a bachelor who never married because he never fell in love. And he said “Love is a gift from the gods; and I never received it.”

So much for my original thoughts. 

And there was another man, well in his sixties, who said " You don't go out looking for love. Love finds its way to you."

Or not. It's a matter of luck I guess.

... 475

You can't buy true love, right? So I guess true love must be a gift then, a gift that is not meant for everyone.

I choose to think it's nothing personal.

... 474

Everything, and by “everything” I mean literally everything, that people around me - acquaintances and strangers, say and do irritates the hell out of me in a painful, almost physical manner. It feels like being locked in a coffin and buried, it feels like screaming my lungs out, it feels like wanting to punch a wall with my bare hands until my knuckles bleed and still keep on punching because pain keeps my mind off of it all. It irritates me because it proves again and again that I don't belong in their world and they don't belong in mine. It's maddening. And I can't help the question - who's the freak here? Me or them? It must be me because there are so many of them and there's only one of me.

I'm in a serious trouble and I know it.

... 473

One of my coworkers became a mother a year and a half ago. Last week she returned to work. I was thrilled about it – to me she’s more than a fellow sister-in arms, she’s a friend.

Or so I wanted to believe.

In her absence I had forgotten all the things about her that used to irritate the hell out of me. I had forgotten how selfish and self-absorbed she was, I had forgotten that she’s only nice to people when they can be of some use to her.

I cannot and I won’t tolerate hypocrisy. Ungrateful bitch. The hell with her.

And that’s the primal unpleasant side effect form winter – it makes my tolerance so thin that it gets as good as nonexistent.

... 472

OK, girls, if you object your guy then just break up and be done with him. And if you don't want to break up then just stop nagging and shut up. I doubt you're perfect either. Seriously, why complicate something that is simple to begin with? Rockets are complicated, relationships don't have to be.

I can't remember the last time I've eavesdropped on a sane conversation.

... 471

It’s all going to hell. My friends…(friends?)…they have all, all but one, become grown-ups. All they care to talk about, all they care to think about is building and maintaining their own cocoons where they can bury themselves, where happiness is about finding diapers on sale, where there is no place for anything outside the banalities of day-to-day existence. It sickens me, it sickens me to the point of suffocating in mute screams. I can't just exist, I co-exist - and there's no one left to co-exist with.

... 470

Sunlit autumn is a deceiving charmer because it opens the door for winter. And a cruel one too – as if with this splash of colors nature says “Am I not pretty? Boy, you are going to miss me so much!”

Not much is sweeter and nothing more painful than the numbered days of freedom. I guess I am hopeful only when I have a good reason for that. 

... 469

I am sure that if my life was the way I picture it in my mind it would still find ways to disappoint me and to wish I'd pictured it differently. It's all in my head - both the carrot and the stick.

... 468

Yesterday I came face to face with my addiction to attention. I don't seek it, I have at least that much style left not to impose myself on others, but the truth is I desperately crave attention. It is probably the desire to feel special, outlined. I thought I was comfortable with solitude but I've been wrong all along. I am comfortable with it as long as it is (still) a choice, as long as the door out is still open. I can't help asking myself: What do I have to offer when I go out? Why would I be accepted with open arms by anyone? I've been hiding from the real world to avoid harm for so long that I neither got to know it then nor I have any idea about its ways now. 
How did I manage to get so messed up?

... 467

The sad thing about life is all these unrealized opportunities for happiness missed either by misfortune, circumstances or sheer stupidity. Opportunities are limitless, time is not.

However, what makes me really sad right now is to know that I can indulge in this pseudo moral idealistic chatter only because my life is secure and I don't have to worry about my home being destroyed by a missile. And it is utterly unfair that there are millions who do. And I see no way out of this inequality.

On second thought maybe opportunities are not limitless too. Maybe at some point destiny gives up on you and stops wasting them on you because you're too stupid to see them.

... 466

What do I want out of life? Nothing that can be ordered from a catalog; and all of it involves other people. How could I then set up a goal I could go after? It's frustrating.

. 465

I'm once again nothing but naked emotion struggling to let loose.

OK, that was pathetic. True but pathetic. And I don't care. I need to talk, I need to cry, I need to whine, I need to let it all out and be done with it. And I can't do any of it. And it feels as if my head is about to explode. And I know that being sentimental is counterproductive and immature but I need to be weak for some time before acting strong. And although I am a total wreck I would do it all over again if I could - and pay the price again. That cliché about the moments that take our breath away? It is true, you know - to the very last bit. I am a lucky one.