Ive been hiding in my room all day. Juvenile as it is, too much life makes me retreat a little. It's now 1:30am and Im basking in solitude probably a little too happily (but I'll put that thought aside for another, more introspective time). I'm currently reading a poetry book by R.D. Laing, which is running brilliantly convoluted Knots around my poor weary brain.
Example:
It is boring that you are frightened
you are boring me by being interested in me.
Im trying to be interesting,
you are very boring.
You are frightened of being boring, you
try to be interesting by not being interested,
but are interested only in not being boring.
You are not interested in me.
You are only interested that I be interested in you.
You pretend to be bored
because I am not interested
that you are frightened
that I am not frightened
that you are not interested in me.
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