or; at least that's how it feels
There is a book by Gabriel García Márquez named "Cien años de soledad", or "A hundred years of solitude". It's a very melancholic book that I read last summer; arguably García Márquez' best book (and I've read a bunch - "Crónica de una muerte anunciada", "El otoño del Patriarca" and "Historia de mis putas tristes"), but it deals a lot with solitude; what it is, what it does to a person, how it can effect the lives of those who, for lack of a better word, suffer from this solitude. I hadn't thought about it in a while, and the feelings that the main character felt, but lately, I've been seeing it more and more often. I found out yesterday that one of my favorite teachers committed suicide the other day. This surprised me to no end - she was so vibrant, vivacious, and upbeat, I didn't believe it when I was told, and it took hearing it from lots of people to finally sink it into my head.
And of course, this got me thinking - what happened? What could I (or anyone) have done to help? Did she feel so depressed and alone that she felt this was her only option?
I've felt really depressed as of late - not suicidal depressed, it would take a lot more than my current crappy situation to ever bring someone to that point - but I've just been feeling lonesome, alone, and melancholic. It hasn't helped that every book that I've been reading lately has dealt with these themes, and that the usual method to deal with these feelings has been suicide (cursed lit teachers and their bummer books!!!!) I just wish that this loneliness would up and leave. It's really getting me down. Of course, nobody around me knows, because I'm nothing if not a master at disguising my true feelings . . . but I don't know what to do to kick this feeling. Oh well. Hopefully something or somebody will come along and kick me the heck out of my funk.
A boy can hope.