page 23
From quite early on, I had this idea of compartmentalised identities--'This is how you are with your mum, and this is how you are with your dad'--so it seemed like I could never absolutely be myself. And this image of myself as compromised and inconsistent made me want to withdraw from the world even further. I had a sense of formulating a papier-mâché version of myself to send out in the world, while I sat controlling it remotely from some snug suburban barracks. When I used to watch TV as a tot, I'd sit really close to the screen: just trying to get into that box.
I like that his response is to hide and mine's to throw myself at it, avoid getting found out, or caught. (It's not that different, escapism is escapism, but it's a different way of tilting your head and squinting.) Of course, I catch myself, so it's never really worked. The best thing about it, though, is that almost everyone I know thinks the inconsistency is the normal human condition and is mostly baffled by my discomfort with it.
eta By page 58, I want to call everyone I've ever loved and tell them that I do. Even the ones that I don't anymore for whatever reason. I think it's time to put down the book and spend some time with reality.
I like that his response is to hide and mine's to throw myself at it, avoid getting found out, or caught. (It's not that different, escapism is escapism, but it's a different way of tilting your head and squinting.) Of course, I catch myself, so it's never really worked. The best thing about it, though, is that almost everyone I know thinks the inconsistency is the normal human condition and is mostly baffled by my discomfort with it.
eta By page 58, I want to call everyone I've ever loved and tell them that I do. Even the ones that I don't anymore for whatever reason. I think it's time to put down the book and spend some time with reality.