i don't know why i do this to myself

i have work tomorrow............ & it's late.
i don't know why i do this to myself.
i'm not even fully recovered.
i feel 90% there, but not quite.
relapse is possible.
i've been reading the bell jar by sylvia plath.
plath has written so clearly & beautifully thoughts that i have thought and words that i wish were spoken in my reality, universe. ... and it scares the shit out of me.

finishing siddhartha inspired me. for a very obvious reason, i don't think the bell jar will have an equal effect.

i wish i can have lots of thoughts right now- some sort of dilemma, a praiseworthy moment, a hypothetical situation. anything that will make me write, but my brain seems to be lit up with nonsense and empty lights.

i feel like sometimes ... just sometimes, i think my life really is like a movie.

that serendipity will bring that stranger i met on BART to me and we will live happily ever after.
that my friendships will stay exactly the same and will never take a turn for the worse.
that someday i just might see big ben again.
that i might be able to afford a chanel purse of my own.

i sincerely believe there are realistic dreams and dream dreams.

realistically i will never meet the perfect man.
realistically friendships/relationships change.
realistically i just might see big ben again & hopefully i'll be able to afford that chanel purse.

i guess that's what life is all about- hope.

i've grown way too jaded to appreciate a fool's hope.

if i had three wishes i'd wish for the following-
1. height (my height can get very uncomfortable. esp. in europe where women are amazonian & it's normal),
2. the ability to speak every language,
3. to SEE THE BIG PICTURE- whatever that means. i'll take it.

#3 used to be money. an unlimited supply... but what kind of bitch would that turn me into? i guess knowing too much just might hurt me too. but i'd rather be crazy than greedy.