My emotions are too abundant and colourful to be contained in written words.
My emotions are, on the other hand, petty and insignificant even to myself.
One minute the world is full of meaning and even a grain of dust carries a story.
The next minute, the world is full of dust and nothing else.
To stop, and stand still, to find out who I am.
Or to go out and make my life?
4 comments:
To do both. Oscillate between the mundane and the sublime. Your writing is sublime. Seriously. I've seldom seen the most commonplace of things given such clarity. So that I read innumerable subtexts between the limpid lines.
The world is full of dust, and the dreariness of it all seems to choke everything pensive, poetic, tranquil, musing away from us. But some resist.
Emotions. They have this tendency.
And these. Well... they linger on. Switching their positions, sometimes for good, other times for... insanity.
And yet, you can and will learn to abide by them. {It does seem weird coming from a seventeen year old nutcase doesn't it?}
Find yourself first. Life unfurls itself for you in admiration.
(Wow. Writers block applies for comments too...)
Silence really is a common factor, isnt it? You mustve read the previous comment on my blog, abt the need to show as well as mean.
Emotions, more than thoughts, define what most of us are. Im sure they will guide you aright, PP.
Emotions scare me sometimes. With all the vulnerablity that they bring with them.
And a question that remains somewhat is how one can make one's life without knowing oneself first. They go hand in hand, do they not?
"One minute the world is full of meaning and even a grain of dust carries a story.
The next minute, the world is full of dust and nothing else."
This is beautiful.
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