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So in another attempt to bring myself back to books, I bought a short novella written by none other than Franz Kafka himself. If you havn't guessed already, the name of the story is "The Metamorphosis". Quite simply, it is about an over-worked man who wakes up to find himself changed into an unknown species of insect. His family shuns him and slowly he begins to live more and more like an insect until finally he dies of starvation. His family not only is unmoved by his death, they seem to find relief in it. This may be the most depressing story I have ever read.
Even I, the eternal habitual pessimist I am, have trouble coping with this kind of ending. Many of the little things I write end bittersweetly, but never with a seemingly pointless death. There isn't really a whole lot I have to say about it, besides the fact that I feel a certain compantionship with the main character. Our main difference is that I have not turned into a bug and that I was probably never overworked in my life... My point is that over the past year or so, I've gone through a lot of changes -- physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, etc. and I have to wonder if I really like what I've become. I absolutely loathe the thought of working, I hate the memories of the few weeks I actually worked a paying job, I tend to sleep in until late afternoon most days, I've stopped caring about school (and yet I somehow still lettered academically...), I still have very few interests, my friends are meaning less and less to me and I don't think I like my personality much anymore. Normally I'd call this teenage angst, but I've recently exited a relatively strong bout of that about the time school ended this year.
It is this that truely makes me wonder: do I really like who I am when I'm not happy? It's a strange paradox that I'm assuming many other people have gone through. If my assumption is correct, perhaps I could get some help here. I don't think I'd like to be *cough* "depressed" again, but I can't stand the thought of becoming a worthless slob before I even begin college. So I'm pretty much asking the hypothetical "group" to give me some good advice on the subject. I imagine this is probably what it is like to pray, and as such I expect very little if any response. But it might be nice since I am going to the trouble of asking a tangable group of beings.
In closing, I realize that my predicament and that of Gregor Samsa are quite different indeed. However, I do not wish to undergo a slightly more metaphorical "metamorphosis" and end up being shunned from what little I love in this world. Leastwise, I really don't want to die of starvation, I simply like food too much.