(no subject)

Feb 27, 2006 11:15

Life is strange. I'm not sure why, but it is.
I am sitting in Mills Library in the back corner on the second floor in front of a window watching the trees dance to the music in my head. And no, I'm not on drugs. It feels like such a lazy day. Like the days when it would rain and I would curl up in my bed and watch the lightning dance in the window.

Libraries are odd. All the shelves look the same... with rows and rows of books. sometimes I like to walk along the shelves, my fingertips touching the spines of the books until one feels right. then I pick it up and sit down in the isle and flip through it. I often make up stories for inanimate objects. I like to look at the publication date and wonder how many people have touched it and flipped through its pages and what their stories might have been. I do the same thing in used book stores.

I don't know if these sort of things are the product of or the reason that I cannot keep strong interpersonal friendships. I suck at it. I withdraw back into myself. I just like to be around people, I don't always like to talk and I rarely have time or the desire to go out places. I am happier in a library with the quiet and the musty smell of books, making up stories about the people who must have checked them out and traced their fingers along the pages.

I am also listening to French music played by accordions.

maybe this is the problem. OR, perhaps there is no problem. I kind of like being this way.

I should go and actually study instead of talking about molesting books.
so without further ado... tata.
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