I thought I should write this now while I'm on a break between movies while I try to get back on my feet. I had a weird panic/depression attack earlier and I'm not quite back on my feet. Should I describe it? I don't know, even if for future reminders. All I'm going to say it's I'm not sure where it came from but suddenly I was laying on the bathroom floor unable to get up. I don't know how much time I laid there but writing this down is bringing tears to my eyes so I'm gonna stop.
I had previously decided to come here because last night I finished reading the Princess Diaries and I came to a realization about myself while reading it. I wanted to come and complain how I felt about the saga but now I'm terrify the reason I'm like this is because of it. I mean, I always get this sadness when finishing a book I'm way too invested in. And I don't know why I got so invested in it since I hated most of the time I spend reading it. You see, Mia is annoying. But to be fair I also had a good time reading. After all that must justify the fact that I spent complete days dedicated to it. I got to read three books in a day. Just picture how invested I was. And I don't know if it's because it's the only books I got to read without feeling guilty for reading it for the first time in my career (since I'm doing my rural intership) but let's be honest and real... That's not it. Maybe I was just bored. Or I just fell in love with Michael. That could be. You see... I wrote all of this last night, I think, so I should probably just shut up and copy here what I wrote yesterday and if there's anything not clear, I'll finish the idea.
Romance novels are everything, because who doesn't love a good romance? But not all of us want to be in love. It was a discovery that took me a couple of years and couple of mistakes and cryings and depression. But that I eventually came to. Still romance novels are all I breath for and why I get so invested in them. I love them. Because they make me feel what I can't feel in real life. Though right now, due to the last novel I read, I miss all that “smelling neck” weirdness. Because I have totally experience that dreadful feeling. When someone just smells so good. Not his cologne, not his soap, them! That feeling is magical 'cause it's the best definition about love being a drug. That smell can get you so high. I guess that's why I got so invested in that novel, 'cause I had known the feeling. But in reality, I hate it. I hate coming across any similiar smell and be struck like an arrow in your gut. Because it never asks. Just strikes you. I don't believe in high school sweethearts being the ones for life. I don't envy that at all. But the plan. God. I wish I was the kind of girl that can get satisfied with a plan. To love somebody that much you could share a plan. Wow. I do envy that.
I think that's all. Why it affected me this much, I don't know. Perhaps a part of me it's still inside the novel and it's getting hard to get out. But perhaps, as I said in Twitter, in a couple of days my mind will be mine again. This is just abstinence. I went, as usual, on a rush to finish. I ate those books as usual and I didn't let myself some time to process. Though I did the same with Jamie and Claire but perhaps with them was different because I know their story isn't over yet and I can obsess over the next one, whenever it is going to be published. I guess, I don't know why this feels different perhaps it doesn't and it's just that I don't recall all my previous abstinence-from-books episodes, but it feels different. Perhaps, just perhaps, it's just that it came on a hard time of my life, with my rural intership causing me a collapse and my thesis being a mess and me finally accepting that I have to let that recurrent someone go... Let's admit it, it's maybe because of that. Because recently I have finally decided to let go this someone who happens to be the only person I had ever experienced that "neck smelling" thing and the only person I ever consider I could do an exception on my plans. Someone with whom I could share a plan. Let's admit it, it's that. It just occurred to me, that is also Mia herself. I saw myself reflected in her a lot, and all of her mistakes. And the parts where she denied to see or do the things she had to, that I had denied myself too. Her stupidity reminded me of me. And that Mia went through depression and that hit somewhere too close from home. But either way, I'm going to get myself back together. I have to. I can't keep thinking about suicide. I have to get myself together. Things would be fine. I'll be fine. I'm not alone, I got myself. My rock. And got my family. So, that's it, blogger, I'm going to watch The Secret Life of Walter Mitty to feel some inspo. See you next I'm broken.
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