A Distorted Reality.

Every year, this holiday kills me.
The six weeks (or thereabout) lacking structure; lacking definition: it gets to me. I read, I write, I go out: but it’s never enough. There’s always something nagging at me; a general feeling that I could be doing more worthwhile, more enriching things. I should be reading The Brothers Karamazov [...]

…and fifty-three hours of entrancing music.’
I’m wasting my time so far this holiday: I need to do something productive. No, more than that: I need to do something to improve myself; to further myself. I need to write; I need to read: I need to push myself mentally. I also need distracting from certain future [...]