Chapter XXV, where Adele tells things she wouldn't like anybody to know

I find it odd that people come to me for advice. A person whose favorite color is blue, who likes Cat Power and Portishead and reads Sylvia Plath, and has this emotional attachment to some blanket just because it belonged to someone whom she loved dearly and then died unexpectedly and who really likes rainy days because rain is such a good excuse not to leave the house. Oh, and I hate maps. I love them, but I hate them. No, you don't have to understand what I mean. Not everything I say.

What I find really odd is that people actually listen to me and understand what I say and that I make any sense at all. And that I say things that have this effect on people. They listen to me (which by itself is somewhat weird) and then, suddenly, they reach some sort of inner agreement, like, yes, this is me freaking out and this is me listening to Adele and we both agree on the fact that what she's saying is perfectly reasonable so it must be right.

No. Now listen to me. I try not to think about things. I avoid thinking about those things that I know will bring me some kind of pain. No, I don't do drugs and I don't drink heavily and I sleep no more than 6 or 7 hours. What I do is, I put those thoughts in a drawer in my mind somewhere I can't really reach that easily, kinda like when you hide something you don't want to see, like a present you got from this ex who really fucked up and then you can't find it anymore even though now you can look at it and feel fine again. I plan on getting twenty cats and getting crazy (and let them lick my glasses and dishes and jump onto the table while I'm eating) and wearing clothes that are twice as big as me and talking to myself aloud, random thoughts so nobody ever really cares about me anymore and so I know for sure they have a very good reason not to like me and that I can understand.

Of course I try to stay lucid (yes, exactly like what you try to do when you dream and want to remember it all) and sometimes I can actually do it and then I panic. Then I go under the blue blanket (and there's always Noelle). What I'm trying to say is: I may say these nice things and when I say them I do believe in them, but there are a few occasions where I just feel as lost and clueless as anyone does and then I guess I just need someone to tell me 'well, life sucks, but not all of the time really, and we'll figure it out somehow'.

Chapter XXIV, where Adele - oh, wait, you'll figure it out by yourself

Have you ever noticed how people are drawn to know about how miserable other people are, and how they always sympathize with them when they're sad and lonely and drinking heavily and sleeping for 12 hours straight so they can try and escape reality for a bit and then, when they're happy and turn their lives around so they can actually smile and laugh at least once a day they just go 'Oh, yeah, right. Listen, I gotta go now. We'll catch up later, I guess'?

I hate that.

Take movies or books (or blogs). I'm now reading A long way down. All characters in the book are either too unhappy or depressed they just want to jump off a builiding and get over with their lives on New Year's Eve. But then, of course, they don't, or there wouldn't be much of a story there, unless Hornby chose to write about ghosts and how people don't really die and how God blahblah and stuff (and it wouldn't be a Hornby book if he did). Anyway, these characters, they're all f***ed up and I can't wait to get to the end of the book so I know they get better and don't feel that way anymore. But I'm guessing there's where the story ends.

(I was reading it the other day on the subway, on my way home, and laughed out loud at it. Quite embarrassing. No, there's nothing funny about people wanting to kill themselves. You have to read it to understand.)

Or if you watch a chick flick like French Kiss (but I bet you didn't, you James and you Redclay, my two readers, because you're guys) and just see a girl who got dumped and is now humiliating herself to get her fiancé back and this guy who's screwed up way too much in his life and you spend 2 hours thinking 'of course they'll fall in love and everything's gonna be fine', because there's the point of watching a movie like that. And when they finally do, you see the credits rolling.

I hate how we can't stand people being happy around us and how we think we are good people but we're not. I hate it how we don't really share the good stuff. So I'm thinking: mmm, maybe a good friend is a person who can actually feel good about your feeling good. Not the other way around. As cheesy as it sounds.

I wish I had said something clever instead of this. But, oh well.

P.S. And of course there are stories where people are miserable and everyone's bad and there's no way to change it and you read them or see them on the screen and you cry a lot and you think there's no reason to live anymore if that's how life is. Like Dancer in the dark, for example. But I'm not talking about these. Not now.