When Life Becomes Like A Novel

What do you do when you find yourself identifying with a character in a book? I'm reading the Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, and I find myself feeling much like Sidda in the story. I can sense her envy of her mother and others that have that longstanding bond with girlfriends.

All my life I've been much of a loner, through choice mind you, but that doesn't mean I never dreamt of being the one people fawn over and people want to befriend. Nevermind that I've always been to snarky for that or maybe just to shy for that.

I dont think there was ever a time when I had more than 2 or 3 close friends, and when I talk about friends here, I mean ones I talk to or see on a fairly regular basis. Online friends are a different species altogether. I never know how to approach online friendships. How much do you really let, or want to let complete strangers know about your life? Telling too much can get you in trouble, as I've seen quite a bit of in my 4ish years online.

So my close friends number 3, and they know who they are. Some of them even read this journal. ~waves~ Even though they don't comment. ~pouts~ At least not often. But so is the nature of the beast of friendship, sometimes they are silent.

I had one friend that I had known since 6th grade, and suddenly she's all but disappeared from my life. I get a random call from her every now and then, but it's awkward talking to her. I don't call her, because I've hit a point where I don't know what to say and I'm sure the same is the case for her. It's just very sad.

It's more understandable when a friend marries or moves away. Changes there aren't quite so painful, though they still hit pretty hard.

I guess that's part of life and I suppose I'm writing this because I'm still feeling a little sorry for myself. I think the incident with the car has hampered my chances of employment with the temp agencies. I'm at my wits end, and there's no one I can talk to about it.

The only happy thing to happen is those tickets. Squee to infinity and beyond there. I also finished writing a short story, called Railway Hotel. It's one sentence over 30 pages, literally. I'm kinda proud of it too, because it's a different kind of story from what I usually write. It interrupted my work on the vampire fic, which I'm now sorting through, ready to abandon for the umteenth time.

I will calm down now and try to think happy thoughts and go to my happy place. The happy place being wherever Justin Hayward and John Lodge are.