May was – in its depressing way – sort of successful: I managed to finish 6 (six!) books. I blame it entirely on the weather. Every time I woke up, bursting with energy (haha) and the will to go outside and do something exciting on my rare free days, all I had to do to completely lose all of my interest and enthusiasm was to take my earplugs out and hear the raindrops pattering against my windows (what raindrops, hail it was, stones of ice as big as diamonds, more than once).
And yes, I’m aware of the fact that I really can’t claim any improvement in the quality of my readings, but I say, baby steps. I still can’t bring up any interest in early Baroque music treatises or meaningful literature, but at least I seem to enjoy reading again and that’s enough for now. I may be myself again one day or I may not – it’s not an actual problem now. Surviving and learning to love life, these are my most important goals lately and I’m doing quite well with them, I dare say.