dustland fairytale

It is Saturday night. I am sitting in my bathrobe revising a philosophy paper. I feel that only recluses wear bathrobes for periods of time longer than five minutes.

I have been much more social lately than usual, but I am not sure if this is actually making me happier or if it is creating the semblance of happiness because societal stigmas tell me this is how I should feel.

I read a beautiful little story earlier about a photographer and model who fall in love. They are both so shy, but it happens so naturally and flawlessly; they are literally swept away.

I feel as though I experienced that once, back when he was so effortlessly poetic and didn't understand why I kept and treasured everything he wrote.

I feel like I should be much happier than I am.