depression.

yeah i know i wrote before that i was going to control myself today, but right after i told myself i should quit forever just stop writing, it occurred to me that blogs are different: my blog is for me, not an audience, like other published works are. so...these blogs are for me.

i recently fought a bout of depression. and by recently i mean two seconds ago. i finally (finally?) finished Speak by "Laurie Halse Anderson"(i put her in quotes cuz i don't believe that's a real name). after that, i came to the realization that there is nothing worse than finishing a book you truly love. (either that sounded really deep [i'm pretty sure Frost said something like that] or really superficial [i assume death of a loved one, famine, disease...might be worse]...wait, this "blog is for me," so what do i care?)

anywaysies, i really loved Speak, and when i read the last page i felt the tears a-comin'. not that it deserved tears (i mean i love how she ended it, but it really wasn't a tear-jerking moment), i just felt so sad. i was done reading the book. yes, i could reread it, but would it ever have the same effect on me? damndamndamn i said as i picked up the next book, Dear John. i mean, there is  no way a book by the satist, Nicholas Sparks, could even comparem so naturally i would end up misjudging & hating it from the get-go. because all of Sparks' books insist on following some star-crossed lovers's journey to ultimate doom, it can really take a toll on an impressionable teenager girl's emotionbank. so, naturally, i put the book down and started a blog.
maybe i'm blowing this all out of proportion....i mean it's just a book[Speak]...it couldn't have been that good. maybe i'm just being hormonal about the whole fuckin' thing. maybe i should move on?