Inspiration...Sadness...and whatever life takes
Thursday, October 23, 2003
 
Runaway

I confess. I have been rather miserable, and its probably not about to change. As much I pray for peace of others, I constantly discount myself. I wish I could really runaway from this existence. Its a horrible feeling, to wake up everyday, and to go through many hours of oppression. Its painful to see depression, bereavement...its a catholic plague that seems very much to afflict all living things. It hurts to see the beautiful things around because of impermenance. It all perishes. Then all is lost. "Putrefaction as a law of nature", they call it. Eventually, you will die. Finally, I will be very much dead. We become dust.

Is there a power to perpetuate happiness? Or will sadness be intermittently tormenting us, obliterating every glittering smiles or the jocular disposition from one ? Will there be a panacea to obviate the blood that seeps from our hearts? "Everything that has a beginning has an end"

That is what I fear most. Everything ends. The viccistudes are whimsical. That is why I hate to be happy, I hate to be even slightly glad. I loathe gratification. But I hate disconsolation too. Its like I am a rope in tug-of-war.

I endeavour as much as I could to embrace my predicaments. I try so very hard to embrace the people around me. But I fail, almost always. I break down and mutilate myself, ravage my life. This is probably why I got myself mired in some detestable school now. I was eneveloped and blinded by melancholy.

I think I lost melvin (my didi whom i love a lot) already yesterday , and I probably anticipated that (why didn't I avert this stygian reveltaion?) . I lost joel ( i don't know why) . I lost Kip (the dog which I picked up from the street)...

I guess I have whined enough..I will contiune to lose things, and I am not ready to lose some more things now...People around me..please, stay with me, I cannot lose you people now, I could die but still live and I don't want that . I still yearn very much to runaway from this truth of impermenance and the perenial sadness.

cuRRent...jer









 


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pale as the white breeze, the eye cannot maketh its crease, the trough, the zennith, the power...it speaks...it reeks...Oh! how it piques my curiosity! how it delves into the nebulous truth of reality, how it

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