Ah, the Poor Reader, Reduced to Reading Dexter at Midnight

Another birthday over, waiting for my period to come, eyes at half mast peeking at the brightly lit insurance company sign barely visible through the blinds of my den. I haven’t been able to concentrate on fiction since last March, when I underwent a spiritual crisis, but I find that Dexter grabs me enough that I can speed right through it without damage to my psyche. Firstly, I like the TV show: Michael C. Hall is a riveting actor – secondly, I can identify with Dexter’s faking of emotions – yes, even though at times in my life I have been oppressingly overemotional, at least when it comes to my own problems, disappointments, fears, etc., I find I have to fake emotions when responding publicly to anything that doesn’t concern me. But that’s not unusual. I’ve seen other people do it. All of us decent people, not sociopaths. Just rather self-involved and not always empathetic.

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