It's been a while since I've read a book that I've unconditionally fallen in love with. The last book I remember reading that thoroughly engrossed me in any and every aspect, was Siddhartha by Herman Hesse.
I wrote the following around the time I finished the novel: some time around last spring, I think. But I think it's still a completely relevant portrayal of what my mind's like in its raw, fresh, """diary""" friendly state.
Oh, p.s. Siddhartha is a novel written in the 20's that basically deals with a man (Siddhartha's) journey towards enlightenment, branching from his dissatisfaction with the lifestyles he keeps encountering and finding flaws in. It's, to me, an existential novel about self-discovery and so-called wisdom. I can honestly say it is one of my, if not my only, favorite novel.
"I’m too stressed out, I’m starting to scare myself. Siddhartha is a wonderful, wonderful tale and I wish to live my life like Siddhartha does. To not become accustomed to a certain doctrine or teaching, to be able to accept doctrines and religions but to never succumb to a strict faith. I want to be everyone and everything at once. I want to “listen to the river”, for it is everywhere all at once… and it does not believe in time. How do you avoid time though? We depend on it so much…. where would we be without it? I want to indulge myself with worldly pleasures, I want to be taught love and desire. I want to be on the edge, giving in, so close to suicide. then, I want redemption. I want my my own personal epiphany. One to tell me that the life I lead must be simple, and that I must be satisfied with that. Siddhartha, I think.. you’re slowly changing my life."