Drained
I didn't recognize myself when I looked in the mirror today in the bathroom on the train. I looked older, much older. Beaten down and lacking in any sort of meaningful spark. I read Hey Nostradamus! on the ride back. Probably not the best choice after all the had happened in the past ten days. But it's all I had. I like Coupland's writing style and much like my musical tastes, I can't articulate why that is.
I've been lucky in my life so far. All of my grandparents are still alive and reasonably healthy for their age. I can count the number of funerals that I've been to on one hand.
I'm going to inquire tomorrow into the possibility of meeting with a university shrink to try and keep me from falling into a deeper funk than I'm already in. It's 3 weeks into the semester and I haven't done a thing and midterms are just starting to creep into sight. Honestly, MSN or this or the phone just isn't the same as true interaction.
This just isn't the way things were supposed to be.
I've been lucky in my life so far. All of my grandparents are still alive and reasonably healthy for their age. I can count the number of funerals that I've been to on one hand.
I'm going to inquire tomorrow into the possibility of meeting with a university shrink to try and keep me from falling into a deeper funk than I'm already in. It's 3 weeks into the semester and I haven't done a thing and midterms are just starting to creep into sight. Honestly, MSN or this or the phone just isn't the same as true interaction.
This just isn't the way things were supposed to be.
