FOX & FAYVEL

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My name is Vera, I only ever leave my igloo to buy groceries and return books to the library.

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I can’t help but think that Philip Larkin was right in his judgement of parental influence. All my neuroses are a perfect mirror image of my parents’ characters, flawless film negatives. I feel quintessentially neurotic. My mother says I behave like a bitter, sad and serious middle-aged man, but she’s eternally eleven and oblivious (whereas I’m every male protagonist in a Woody Allen screenplay, goggle-eyed and anxious). I don’t know, I want to write stories but there’s nothing to write about and I feel stuck. Must move out from home as soon as possible, move out for good, anchors aweigh. I want to belong to a group of pretentious, chain-smoking intellectuals. I want coffee. Or a glass of wine. And someone to kiss me. Having long ago smudged the lines between lonely and alone, I want to do something drastic, something explosive and self-inflicted. Oh, for God’s sake.

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Thursday Dec 12 @ 04:51pm
tagged as: diary.

  1. foxandfayvel posted this

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