Today I went to the ‘city.’ I use city like this because I live in the mesmerizing countryside of the UK. I have for all of my twenty years. And it is something I like very much. All the unending commotion of city life is not for me. But for a day it can be bearable – well to some degree, anyway.
People in every angle of my vision. People bumping into me. Crossing the street to avoid the endless streams of leaflets and advertisements. Maybe it isn’t like this for everybody, maybe people actually enjoy the bustle and hustle. Though, for me, with my anxiety and my introversion, it can be hugely tiring, demanding. So much so that after a few hours my limbs feel heavy, a dull headache arises, and my vision loses its clarity. Just physically being in the same space as that many people, that many faces, and that many voices – it drains me.
Of course, I am not normal. Or… at least the way in which my mind works isn’t.
Maybe this is beyond comprehension for someone who doesn’t ail from the same things I do, someone who’s mind is made and wired differently. I suppose in the same sense that their actions seems preposterous to me.
Though, I like to look for the silver linings each day, the things that make the bad bearable. Obviously, it was the book shop, no competion even comes close. The sprawling, huge, book shop. I envy people who can spend more time trawling through their mighty sci-fi section. Believe me, it was a truly glorious sight.
Today’s purchase: A pretty hardback edition of Farenheit 451.
I can’t imagine anything better than a quiet room, a comfy chair, a book, and plenty of strong coffee.
The city – it’s something I’m not made for.