Sunday, March 15, 2009
The shells crack under our shoes
Like punctuation points
I've been meaning to write. Only, I haven't been able to find the time. Oddly enough, most nights I waste away as if I had only just finished my 'O' levels the day before. Well, I finally found it necessary to write tonight, although I cannot say what the reason is. It is not that I might reveal a dark secret if I did write the reason, but rather, I lack the ability to identify the reason. Maybe it is because I've been watching a programme about doctors and patients and how their lives intersect and I somehow feel like I was just informed of a terminal illness that I have. Hence, the need to write about how I feel, who I am, what I'm doing — that is, living each day as it comes. The cold wind hits the skin on my arms and cheeks as I type. How I love this weather. It rained today and I was able to wear a sweater even when I was walking on the streets. What a wonderful feeling. Feelings, a topic I'd love to talk about — at least at some point in my writing — but should I write about it now, I fear that I may not be able to stand the overwhelming emotions of caliginous emptiness and forlorn longing for something that I am not even sure is good for me at this point in my life, and yet, not so. Still, I am fairly certain that I will discuss this in the future.
In case you are wondering, I am, unusually, most aware of the contents of my post. I know the number of changes in the subjects of my discourse and I can assure you that I am perfectly sane and am most positively not letting my mind slip away and my fingers type what is unintelligible. So good night, fair Creation. I bid you dear farewell until morrow, from the deepest sincerity of my heart, good night.
symphony of sound
8:38 pm
