(no subject)
The thing to be angsty about at the moment is the utter fakeness of everything and of all people. And that is why the concept has never occurred to me at all. I know people are fake - it doesn't bother me that much. I am doing something else - something that I know I shouldn't be doing. Whenever I read, I assimilate the style so I can take from it, ruthlessly suck out the life-blood of the writing and integrate it into my own. All writers are cannibals. They take and take and take - but they know that somewhere out there, there are more writers sucking from their own writing and cannibalising it to suit themselves.
I'm doing it know - I'm sucking in all the writing I can find on a new subject, a new obsession - depression. If it were anything else, it wouldn't be so important - it wouldn't even matter, but as it is I'm taking a risk. I'm still on this side of normalcy - I can live my own life and enjoy it without getting too emotional about tehe trivialness of it. But I've assimilated something dangerous - what I have read is slowly integrating into my own style, so the depression is becoming a part of me. I can still detach from it and laugh at myself and my own bad habits, but I won't be able to do it forever. This may turn the obsession into reality, and by then, there's no going back.
I'm doing it know - I'm sucking in all the writing I can find on a new subject, a new obsession - depression. If it were anything else, it wouldn't be so important - it wouldn't even matter, but as it is I'm taking a risk. I'm still on this side of normalcy - I can live my own life and enjoy it without getting too emotional about tehe trivialness of it. But I've assimilated something dangerous - what I have read is slowly integrating into my own style, so the depression is becoming a part of me. I can still detach from it and laugh at myself and my own bad habits, but I won't be able to do it forever. This may turn the obsession into reality, and by then, there's no going back.