August 22nd, 2005


lately, I've been identifying more and more with fictional characters

"Little man" - Harra's voice in the dark was as sweet and deadly as maple mead - "my mother killed my daughter. And was judged for it in front of all of Silvy Vale. You think I don't know what public shame is? Or waste?"

"Why d'you think I'm telling all this to you?"

Harra was silent for long enough for Lem to pass around the stone jug one last time, in the dim moonlight and shadows. Then she said, "You go on. You just go on. There's nothing more to it, and there's no trick to make it easier. You just go on."

"What do you find on the other side? When you go on?"

She shrugged. "Your life again. What else?"

"Is that a promise?"

She picked up a pebble, fingered it, and tossed it into the water. The moon-lines bloomed and danced. "It's an inevitability. No trick. No choice. You just go on."

Lois McMaster Bujold, Memory

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    depressed depressed
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If I'm going to be ill for any length of time, I should add a lot of the journals I normally only skim back to my Default View. Especially the more literary writers and the communities that I usually don't have time for - that might help this feeling of isolation & loneliness.

Except I am still thoroughly in Denial about being ill, and clinging to the clueless over-optimistic idea that I might be better, soon, where soon is a moving target somewhere around this time next week.

No, I don't know which user icon best fits this, either.