...For it seems like I have been battling constantly with the Hyde within me. Not really so much of an evil doppelganger, but rather, a cheery self seems alot harder to put on as a front recently.
Agony, pain, and fear seem to dominate these days. Agony of not being able to express my deepest feelings; agony at not understanding why we act the way we are; pain from self-depreciation, loss and regret; fear from a fall, a loss of confidence; fear from everything prone to repeating again.
The clock says 3am, the start of one of those emo nights till 4.30am, when Can't Sleep (by Above & Beyond) sounds its whispers through my soul. Beautiful, enchanting and depressing - the perfect lyrical poison for the nights that remain young till day breaks. Only then, I go to sleep.
A hug, the briefest of them all, stirs those tender strings of the heart.
Every night I read a few pages off "A Million Little Pieces" (by James Frey); every night I recall snippets of the movie "I am Sam". I recall, I feel, I sympathize, I cry in my mind. Just when I thought the soul had sailed away, leaving the heart hardened...no, the love of agony stirs subtly but surely.
And so I write, letters of the alphabet that code my private affairs, cast upon paper with only a lingering promise of "It will be taken care of."
Words have never such an effect on me in the past like they do of now; words earn me my income, words complete me. The power of the English language engulfs me completely - I am but a prisoner to my pen. There was never a socialite, never before, never now. Speak to me, I crave for words to inhale. Exhale in ink, exhale in ink.
Prose, thank you.
A deep ache; it stays. Bury it deeper, cry it to a river.
Agony, pain, and fear seem to dominate these days. Agony of not being able to express my deepest feelings; agony at not understanding why we act the way we are; pain from self-depreciation, loss and regret; fear from a fall, a loss of confidence; fear from everything prone to repeating again.
The clock says 3am, the start of one of those emo nights till 4.30am, when Can't Sleep (by Above & Beyond) sounds its whispers through my soul. Beautiful, enchanting and depressing - the perfect lyrical poison for the nights that remain young till day breaks. Only then, I go to sleep.
A hug, the briefest of them all, stirs those tender strings of the heart.
Every night I read a few pages off "A Million Little Pieces" (by James Frey); every night I recall snippets of the movie "I am Sam". I recall, I feel, I sympathize, I cry in my mind. Just when I thought the soul had sailed away, leaving the heart hardened...no, the love of agony stirs subtly but surely.
And so I write, letters of the alphabet that code my private affairs, cast upon paper with only a lingering promise of "It will be taken care of."
Words have never such an effect on me in the past like they do of now; words earn me my income, words complete me. The power of the English language engulfs me completely - I am but a prisoner to my pen. There was never a socialite, never before, never now. Speak to me, I crave for words to inhale. Exhale in ink, exhale in ink.
Prose, thank you.
A deep ache; it stays. Bury it deeper, cry it to a river.