The Diary

Social networking sites allow you the perverse pleasure of watching others live their lives, while yours passes into futility and inanity. I am browsing through the snapshots of other people’s lives. Brithdays, holidays, family gatherings… And mine? I never take photographs, one day I may regret it, but I cannot bear to look at the stillness of the past.

The last three days have been perfect, that is if I erase my interactions with fellow human beings. After reading Virginia Woolf’s diaries, I have decided that I am quite jealous of her. DH Lawrence never surprises, but it is Moliere who makes me laugh the most. I would have loved to have met him. It seems he had a theatre company, where he was the only man.

People are talking to me; my phone keeps ringing. But I choose to ignore their voices. I cannot deal with emotions -- mine or theirs. Tomorrow I will listen. For now, life is a hazy dream, and I’m floating in a pool of serendipity.