I’m at the point of the novel where I slowly realize that Bildungsroman is not a novel after all. A plot drives the pace and development of a story, but Bildungsroman in life is driven by the motivations of real people. Sometimes the plot stagnates and keeps stagnating until the protagonist stops caring about adulting, the journey of Bildungsroman. Slowly, all the self-reflection, growth, sorrow, angst, and tireless searching and chasing begin to lose relevance. One does not always metamorphosize. And just like that, we outgrow the seams of our youths. Sometimes, Bildungsroman is a dream one never wakes up from; most other times, Bildungsroman is a dream one forgets the morning after.
A Dream
He looks at me, starry-eyed.
I don't want him to know that
I can't run away completely, or that
most of us try but don't leave.
The end of life is no life,
and my escape still circles the same earth.
In the midst of it all,
we've changed for reasons immaterialized.
3/19/2023And here’s a masterpiece by a mastermind (in The New Yorker), one of my favorites of all times:
I’m reading this over and over as the sun rises here in Ohio... grateful to have your thoughts and favorite things with me this morning ❤️