I feel stupid. I feel like a stupid girl with a corn flake for a brain, but I can't seem to help it. I still see the same face when I close my eyes.

I finished The Unbearable Lightness of Being on the train today. I almost cried, a few times. There were so many moments reading that book that hit way to close to home. There were so many passages, phrases and incites that shook my brain. It all made me think, and I'm still pondering. It's one of those books that I look forward to reading again, and probably again after that. I'll let it breathe, of course. It's no good to jump right back into a story like that. It was too beautiful.

Today, toward the end of the book and at the beginning of my disorderly day, I read about Kundera's four ways in which people wish to be looked at (note I purposely didn't choose the word "seen" because being seen and being looked at are not necessarily the same thing...). I'm not going to bother paraphrasing the four types but I will say that I'm torn between looks three and four: to be "constantly before the eyes of the person they love" or also those who seek the looks of an imaginary audience. Both tug at my brain. I live to be loved but I'm also a very aloof person which I think is mainly what causes me trouble in the love department.

I was able to step outside myself today, walking in my most favorite city, and I decided that I'm doomed. I believe that there are certain aspects of one's personality that will never change- not truly. You can hide and cover, not express certain parts of yourself if you're willing to make the effort but that doesn't mean they cease to exist. I, myself, will never be able to hold onto a lasting love and it kills me inside to know this. I see patterns. I have strong intuition. I'm already crying. I just wish it didn't have to start off so good all the time.

I know I'm not just being neurotic or insecure. I'm forcing myself to realize and to be honest and this information I put before you to do with what you will. One day one of two things will be sure to happen, if you stay close to me long enough: I will break your heart or hurt you in ways I will make myself sick with guilt over or you will one day loose the look of love you once showed me and I'll die a little more inside. The thing of it is I'm so sick inside thinking and thinking about what I could have done better. I wouldn't dare ask, because I don't actually think there was much that I could have done. It's just me. I'm flawed in severe ways that leave me destined to this fate, the fate of people falling out of love with me.

I dispel so much energy avoiding routines and responsibilities but deep down, when I had those things in full swing I was actually so much happier. That was another thing that made me cry on the train today. Kundera said "happiness is the longing for repetition" and I would have never considered such a thought to be true, except that today I found it so, unexpectedly. There is comfort and lightness in familiarity and familiarity comes from events and encounters repeated- considering one isn't likely to repeat something that wasn't in some way pleasant, unless of course it was a necessary action- but even necessary satisfies. I guess what I'm trying to say is that i miss old routines, old levels of comfort lost and it makes my stomach knot thinking about how I can't ever go back to that. Those things I crave are lost to other people, other towns that are forbidden to me.

And I think I was also wrong about my way of thinking about life. I'm not sure about this yet but I'm starting to dislike my continuing cycle theory. What if life wasn't really a circular existence, but really just what it appears to be- a straight line. You can't ever go back and time moves you forward, shoving you along until the one day that you can no longer see. Above all else, I really don't want to die in my parent's house.

So what does this really tell me? If time is shoving me along, pushing me farther from the things I've lost then I suppose the only thing left to do is form things anew. I'm not and have never been opposed to change- as long as it can be for the better (or at least par with good). I won't say that I won't try, but knowing what I know of myself I can't help but wonder which life theory will work out. I'm almost too certain that I'll be left time and again, which is a very unhealthy thought process and I'm sorry for that because how can someone allow things to happen that in their mind they have already deemed impossible or unable to last.

Maybe I've just been waiting for someone to be brave enough to prove me wrong. I wish someone would show me the beauty in timing, and stick around long enough to allow myself to be shown exactly how full of shit my brain probably is. Otherwise I suppose I'll have to make due with temporary pleasures which I have no doubt that I am more than capable of. There can be lightness in that too. My clashing optimistic/pesimistic perspective astounds even me sometimes. Oh and yeah, the apathy part... This sounds a bit too familiar right now...

Forgive me, and my corn flake brain.