honestly, i have three or four books at hand which i am no longer turning each one’s pages or even started reading.
one of which is Tuesdays with Morrie. it’s just hiding itself behind my pillow along with its bookmark which is just a tag of a shirt i bought in terranova. so there it is, just lying down on my bed along with me when i am soundly sleeping because apparently i am too tired from work which is a great excuse why the book is where it is right now.
I also have Mitch Albom’s For One More Day still tidy on my desk, without a single page opened. Beside it is N. Sparks’s The Lucky One and on top of them is this heavy small Medicine Recall book from Lippincott Williams & Wilkins which I only started reading when I was scanning its page in the bookstore (literally, before buying the thing).
**and here I am in front of a different Book where I can surf the net, do facebook, scroll tumblr, post tweets, watch movies — that’s how this rant ends. O.O
i should be happy that i have a job. i should be happy that i’ve met new people. i should be happy because i am able to buy stuff that i like. i should be happy that i get to eat well. i should be happy, you know.
but why do i keep pushing myself away from people, from happiness, from the enjoyment of what i already have??