I guess it's hard to stay in a landscape as flat as the Fenlands (heh). And only now do I realise why books like Waterland and Larkin's poetry appeal to so many people. Because it articulates what we can't. It puts into words all these conflicting emotions that hound us inside so we can actually make sense of something in this fucking place. Because at some point in time you begin to feel the bleakness of everything. Haha god this is so embarrassing but I don't care. You try to feel happy about a lot of things and for the moment you are, but then while you're in that mood you see the happiness of others and for some reason.... sheesh. I'm angry at myself for getting angry at this and it sucks it sucks it sucks. This self-awareness of why I do and think they way I do is so irritating. Yet if I had a choice I would still choose this self-awareness. Maybe. It's so easy to be blissfully ignorant yet that's just the easy way out innit. And this feeling of inferiority(?). I don't know, I don't think it is. But it's the same as what, 3 years ago? The feeling of being finally acknowledged when people put you as someone to poke (This doesn't make sense but who cares). And just only now when all of a sudden there's the blaring of a horn and you can see the smoke, you feel like maybe you're actually starting to feel something. Tch, I know that's just me trying to tell myself that there is something worth going after, when in fact it's just this
Isolation
Good Night
I've wasted time I've wasted breath
I think I've thought myself to death
