Excuse me for being a sissy...
Yeah...
I'm a sissy. For the past half hour I've been crying over something that happened in a book. A book.
Maybe it was a twist that I hadn't expected, or maybe I had, but it was just too awful for me to consider it in the conscious part of my brain. I'm halfway through Darkness, Be My Friend and it's already getting to me so badly, yet I can't put it down. It might sound a little strange or haughty, but it feels like this book was written only for me to read. It just speaks to me so well because the main character was raised in the same place that I was and the first-person narrative is so gripping. I feel like I'm living through the character as I read. Thinking in that way, does it really seem so strange that I'd start crying when the character does?
But man oh man, I feel so silly anyway. Silly and drained.
Damn book's ripped my heart out of my chest and attacked it with a scalpel.
Here dead we lie because we did not choose
To live and shame the land from which we sprung.
Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose;
But young men think it is, and we were young.
I didn't do any writing today. The feeling I usually get when I'm able to write didn't surface today, and I'm not about to push it. The closest I did to accomplishing anything was to proofread the 4k words I've got written down for Siren's Way.
Then I worked on a faceset for Circle of Sin. I want to finish the festival area of the game before I go on my trip in August. That means I have to finish programming the fairground, then the moonrise and the fireworks.
God, I feel so run down. I'm going to get back to that funny LOTR fic in the hopes that it'll cheer me up.
I'm a sissy. For the past half hour I've been crying over something that happened in a book. A book.
Maybe it was a twist that I hadn't expected, or maybe I had, but it was just too awful for me to consider it in the conscious part of my brain. I'm halfway through Darkness, Be My Friend and it's already getting to me so badly, yet I can't put it down. It might sound a little strange or haughty, but it feels like this book was written only for me to read. It just speaks to me so well because the main character was raised in the same place that I was and the first-person narrative is so gripping. I feel like I'm living through the character as I read. Thinking in that way, does it really seem so strange that I'd start crying when the character does?
But man oh man, I feel so silly anyway. Silly and drained.
Damn book's ripped my heart out of my chest and attacked it with a scalpel.
Here dead we lie because we did not choose
To live and shame the land from which we sprung.
Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose;
But young men think it is, and we were young.
I didn't do any writing today. The feeling I usually get when I'm able to write didn't surface today, and I'm not about to push it. The closest I did to accomplishing anything was to proofread the 4k words I've got written down for Siren's Way.
Then I worked on a faceset for Circle of Sin. I want to finish the festival area of the game before I go on my trip in August. That means I have to finish programming the fairground, then the moonrise and the fireworks.
God, I feel so run down. I'm going to get back to that funny LOTR fic in the hopes that it'll cheer me up.