Being in a relationship, that's something you choose. Being friends, that's just something you are.

Oh hi it's me again. So soon, I know. I did say I was going to do this blog-every-day thing. There's an essay on Marxist literary theory waiting to be written somewhere and that probably helps. Last night instead of going to sleep I bought-with-one-click-and-delivered-via-whispernet John Green&David Levithan's Will Grayson, Will Grayson on my kindle and read into the night. I liked it, only it's vexingly sent me into this post-one-sitting-read sort of euphoria and I feel exactly like I've been flung headlong into what can only end in weltschmerz

it's the depression you feel when the world as it is does not line up with the world as you think it should be.

and I'm Romanticising my life as though all those moments that happen in literature could actually happen to real people, irl. I've been invited over for dinner by Pratchett, who wants to cook for me and I'm actually letting myself believe it's for something much more passionate and loving than a cheap ploy to get me to have sex with him.

The closest I've ever got to a real-life-feeling-novelesque-love has been dusk. He features in my life, my thoughts, my dreams but to cross the lines, blurring our perfection into too certain realms, might ruin everything. I don't care what they say about falling, because you always have to land eventually. That's a certainty I can't risk...again.

day x