I have a lot of thoughts and opinions about things that very few people actually care about. And it drives me slightly crazy that I can't share my (probably too intense) feelings on the last book I read or movie I saw because no one shares my passion. Basically, no one else is enough of a cool loser nerd like me. So if I can't talk to anyone and without any other option than to keep everything bottled inside my head, I have decided to write to myself. Because then at least it is out there. I've done my part. And maybe I'll find some awesome people along the way who enjoy the thrill of being swallowed by blankets in a big chair with a captivating book and a cup of tea, as much as I do. Maybe. I won't get my hopes up.
My reviews are in no way professional or profound. Usually when I write reviews on books for the library (Did I mention how cool I am?) they are three sentences that basically say "I couldn't put it down!" in a variety of ways. I'm not a critical literary genius or professional broadway theatergoer (I WISH!), I am simply a late 20 - something who still has no idea what to do with their life, and retreats into books to escape a very uninteresting reality. I'm average at best, bordering on invisible, no one worth writing home about, but I entertain myself and I guess that's good enough for now. Yeah I guess I will have to work on the real life stuff at some point, but for now I'm happy continuing to hid behind anything that doesn't involve actually going out into the world and talking to people.
Sad, but true story.
An anonymous person from the internet.
No comments:
Post a Comment