wash me away
2003-08-21 - 9:33 p.m.

The bags under my eyes look as though someone has packed them for a long overseas trip.

Last night I was PMS-ing to the nth degree. It's funny how during the days I hold together so well, it's hard sometimes but I get by, but come darkfall...

I found a disk copy of the Year 12 4unit engles major work, which I must have forgotten I had. I thought I'd managed to be rid of it, having not kept a paper copy and having had to wipe the hard drive when I got virused up...

But no, two years later and it has materialised.

And I read it, of course. But the words felt so unlike they had ever passed through my finger tips that I saw it in a completely new light.

I still hate it, but now a little less, because I think I can understand it.

What I didn't see at the time of writing, although I must have intrinsically known, was that into the main character I poured out everything I most loathed about myself and the world. Not only that, but I exaggerated everything to the point where I made myself mentally nauseous.

And the plot line is full of death and wasting time. Mainly wasting time. She narrates it and drags the readers through it, being very dark and introspective but with very little reason. And the readers can't relate, no one could even like her really...

And that's the point. You aren't supposed to understand her, or like her, or sympathise. You aren't even supposed to understand where the plot has gone. Just see it for the complete waste that it is. That's all.

I get that now. And I love that I get that now.



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