f*cking freud!

you are as good as dead. i mourn and celebrate in the same breath.
- romeo, elise title

i have never believed nor cared about oedipal complexes, i agree with jung on this one... i think its one of freud's wackiest ideas. not everything relates or stems from sexuality. but what do i know, right?

i have just recently finished reading Elise Title's Romeo. granted that i don’t spend much time these days reading plus the fact that i've weaned myself of popular fiction to warp my mind in living through and actually enjoying classics (classics will always be classic, popular fiction wanes in time not to mention gets pretty repetitive or formulaic...), i 'enjoyed' reading this particular psychological suspense/thriller. (that is, if messing with your head is considered as 'enjoying'. there's actually a term for this, mind-fuck.) however, its not really the plot line that got me riveted. in truth, i didn't really care much figuring out who the perp was. its the psychological bullshit that got me. i think it would affect anyone but i know it got me differently.

yes, the moronic attack on freud is connected to the book. you could read it if you want... although i am not partial to giving off reviews to everything i read, allow me to delve into this one. (not that you could do anything about it, its my blog after all - not that anyone reads this...)

i think anyone could relate in even the smallest way to main protagonist in this book. i think anyone who had ever tried to fool his/herself stronger than he/she really is would relate, and i think everyone does that. i remember a forum topic on bb about being strong. those who feel or exude strength are those that feel weak inside and those who seem weak have more strength in them than they know. (well, i didn't really need the book to tell me that...)

yet, that is not all...

i'm shaking my head in amusement and chagrin, as if i really could tell what bothered me most about this book... teetering to the edge then avoiding it at the same breath, i'm wryly laughing at myself, i have never changed. hints splattered all over the place yet i have rarely spelled it out for fear that it would keep being real and i have spent nearly all my life trying to forget or pretend it didn't happen. i've spent as much time trying not to care that it did. i could be fooling everyone except the only one i've tried so hard to convince: myself.

its stupid, really, all of it. the endless charade is killing me but then it suicide to let it down. i've killed myself enough already.

yes, i know. you're not getting any of this...

a friend once commented on reading my blog. if ever she is reading this, don't be misguided. depth has always been relative.