Until next time

Hello,

I promised myself not to write more personal posts, but right now I’m happy. Very happy, and it’s a little unusual. I must say I don’t quite know what’s going on. As you can see by my previous posts my inspiration can impossibly come from something bright and cheerful, so my mind is deserted. To try to adjust to this new type of living I’m searching for something interesting to write about, but there’s already too much writing about the incredible happy couples and singles in the world, and it sickens me. It disgusts me, knowing that people out there are happy, and I’m not. Right now I am, but there are other people who are where I used to be. They are the ones I want to reach to.
It’s going to take some time to get my imagination going again, so I am truly sorry if you won’t hear from me in a while.

Now to the matter I really wanted to write about.
I love my shelf right now. It’s next to my desk, almost extending it on the far right. Stacked with books, notes, folders, old coffee cups, and dictionaries I love staring at it. Currently I’ve filled it with books on photography, America (because I wish to study there), and uncountable novels which have marked the world. Brönte, Collett, Austen, Hamsun, Sophocles, Shakespeare, Woolf, and a British version of Jane Eyre, recently watched. All the novels I’ve read, all the knowledge I’ve acquired, and those aren’t all of them! There is so much more I want to read, but time fools me. Please, send me titles of books I should get my eyes in, I want it all!

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