I’m reading a book called ”The Lover’s Dictionary” by David Levithan. It uses a concept, the dictionary, that I’ve been thinking of using for years – but I’ll probably never write that first novel of mine anyway, so it’s OK that he took it. It is a nice book. Exactly the kind of book I would have fallen head over heels for, say, five years ago. It says:
autonomy, n.
”I want my books to have their own shelves,” you said, and that’s how I knew it would be okay to live together.
And I realize, I haven’t actually been in love in a very long time. For real. I’ve been infatuated, and I’ve flirted, but to have felt something strong, like, this is going to consume me. It’s been ages. Not since Patrik, and that wasn’t even that serious. Not like I really cared, only I put a lot of effort into it just for the sake of doing something. And that was more than two years ago. Now, I mostly go into stuff when I’m traveling, cause it’s so much easier, I don’t have to do anything about it. I’ll be leaving soon anyway.
Maybe that’s what I need. (Not that I’m missing anything, that I definitely need something – my life is pretty busy as it is. But still.) To fall head over heels for something other than a book. And then be able to lie here in bed, reading ”The Lover’s Dictionary” and really FEEL the cryptic sentences. Rather than just being able to appreciate them on an intellectual level.
Or maybe this is just getting older. At some point, the adolescent, world overturning crushes have to stop attacking on all fronts, right? How would else this complex society of ours be able to keep on functioning.
Katja Malmborg 