Some more interesting pieces and footnotes from the journal written in December last year:
There are times when you wonder if you know yourself, if all that you so solemnly believe in, is actually true, if the love that warms your heart is just self-deception, aimed solely at easy, less painful living. And then, you ask yourself again, why we always blow the future out of proportions, what is, so peculiar about the unknown, that is not about the present, the certain territories? Why, if you can laugh and love now, do you think, the same traits would not suffice for future circumstances? Worry, is a dangerous thing, more deceptive than deception itself. And since when, did we become wise enough, to avert misfortune anyway? What is meant to happen by providence, will happen. Que sera sera.
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Guess I will just lie down a bit. For I am tired, of loving, of being what you want me to be. The ways of your world, they tire me, really; they don't cause me anguish any more. They just cause fatigue, deep, calm fatigue, to the point that nothing I think of gives me joy or sorrow any more. I am tired of searching for meaning in all the absurdity, and running, and running when I don't even truly seek the bourne. I will just breathe a bit, and warm my senses, for they are cold and disillusioned, and deeply, hopelessly lonely. I wish my pursuits were just mine to have, so I could just kneel down and weep by a quiet fireplace somewhere, and then repose, for a long time, in slumber.
There are times when you wonder if you know yourself, if all that you so solemnly believe in, is actually true, if the love that warms your heart is just self-deception, aimed solely at easy, less painful living. And then, you ask yourself again, why we always blow the future out of proportions, what is, so peculiar about the unknown, that is not about the present, the certain territories? Why, if you can laugh and love now, do you think, the same traits would not suffice for future circumstances? Worry, is a dangerous thing, more deceptive than deception itself. And since when, did we become wise enough, to avert misfortune anyway? What is meant to happen by providence, will happen. Que sera sera.
----------------------------------------------------------
Guess I will just lie down a bit. For I am tired, of loving, of being what you want me to be. The ways of your world, they tire me, really; they don't cause me anguish any more. They just cause fatigue, deep, calm fatigue, to the point that nothing I think of gives me joy or sorrow any more. I am tired of searching for meaning in all the absurdity, and running, and running when I don't even truly seek the bourne. I will just breathe a bit, and warm my senses, for they are cold and disillusioned, and deeply, hopelessly lonely. I wish my pursuits were just mine to have, so I could just kneel down and weep by a quiet fireplace somewhere, and then repose, for a long time, in slumber.
1 comment:
Tulika,
Philosophical thoughts at that time and what do you feel about these now?
Take care
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