Alas, poor Yorick!

Migration

She’s rich, but still nice. Not “rich, but still nice.” She’s nice because she’s rich.

It is an extremely common mistake. People think the writer’s imagination is always at work, that he’s constantly inventing an endless supply of incidents and episodes; that he simply dreams up his stories out of thin air. In point of fact, the opposite is true. Once the public knows you’re a writer, they bring the characters and events to you. And as long as you maintain your ability to look, and to carefully listen, these stories will continue

That feeling you get when you start thinking about all the people you’ve turned down romantically because you knew you didn’t and could never love them but now… YOU’RE SO LONELY! so you torment yourself thinking you were stupid, too stubborn, too quick to say no, that maybe conforming wouldn’t be as bad as this growing, menacing loneliness.

That lost feeling of possibility. When you were young everything was exciting and fun and the future was unknown and full of infinite possibilities. You felt like your chest could burst at any minute from all that restless, blind hope. But now you’re older, and you LIVE in that future, and… there’s nothing in it. All you want to do is go back to a specific moment in which you were particularly happy, be held by it and stay there forever.

The painful truth that maybe you’re not as good at something as you thought you were. Realizing that you’re good at many things but you don’t particularly stand out in any of them. Maybe you’re just average and you have to make peace with it.

If you don’t dream or do things outside of your familiar environment, of what you know, of what you’re comfortable with; you’ll stay in the same place forever. And yes, maybe you tell yourself that that’s what you really want but… is it? or you’re just afraid to try something different?

Perhaps I was too quick in turning him down. Laurie.  Do you love him?