Justification
This blog completely subverts academia and slips into the realm of emotional welling that is–as it should be–shunned from intellectual halls and punted to the dimly lit recesses of our morose inner monologues. Does the boy want me? Am I a bad person for disliking my Grandmother? Is it wrong that I laughed through my Uncle’s funeral? Am I ugly? Am I vain. These are all the questions we abhor asking ourselves, because the make us abhor ourselves. My emotional gashes, my euphoric pendulums–the veritable textual living of my life– are all here in what I have termed “Emotional Sketching.” Which is not to say this is a diary; this is fiction: plain and true. But all the best fiction emerges from the life that we witness, for we are all passengers on this listless train, and I’m merely attempting to describe the surroundings as they pass my window.
