Jane Eyre

Today, I didn’t do anything in particular. It was what I’d call an unremarkable day, the sort of day I’ve had thousands of, which I forget as soon as I go to sleep in the night. The sort of day that isn’t particularly worth living. I can’t remember a moment today when I was really happy, though nor was I particularly sad. It was a day when I existed, I didn’t live. I don’t want to spend any more days like today. I woke up, I ate, I studied, I talked to people, I sent out a few emails and eventually went to bed. I could’ve conjured up a moment of happiness from somewhere in there, I suppose, for the benefit of you, dear reader. But the whole point of this blog is full disclosure, the ups as well as the downs, so I’m not going to pretend a happiness I couldn’t feel. 

PS: I’ve decided to adopt the style of Charlotte Bronte in Jane Eyre in this blog, where I address you, reader, personally. My favorite line in that entire book is the last one, “And so, dear reader, I married him.” Such a simple sentence, but one I’ll always remember. Like I, by simply reading the book, became a valuable part of Jane’s life, a friend and confidant. That’s how I feel about you, dear reader. I can’t do this alone.