2006-08-21 15:32:33 ET|
started a new book today. the sad truth about happiness. here is an excerpt i really liked.
although i was an easy child, i don't believe that i was any happier than average. i had the usual sorrows and fears, all of which i felt it was important to conceal from my parents, who i believed were counting on me. for example, from the time i was eight, i was acutely afraid of the dark, a mistrust that has never entirely left me. it isn't the darkness that worries me, but what it might contain, the thing or person or beast that might, with a sudden inhalation, a low growl, and a scurry of nails against the floorboards, as the only dreadful, brief forewarning, spring out to seize me, then pull me limb from limb or worse. a fear of the unknown, unseen, unseeable. i do my best to rationalize away the remnants of this fear that still lingers, and i am usually successful.
this describes a huge piece of me. i like that silly reassurance i find in books, that someone must have felt the same way i do at some point or another.
so, besides the reading, my day was boring and uneventful. how was your's?