May be because I am so afraid of drowning and dying, I love to sit by the sea so much. And wait for waves. Because they don't ditch you. And show up, always. Recede, but come back again. It's more therapeutic, than life in general.
What's more healing is this fellow woman who writes. Sometimes I wish so hard to write like her that it makes me want to quit writing altogether. Sans that, almost everyone on this planet is a jerk. Some are outright jerks, some are more tactful. But then that's about it.
This is not quarter life crisis. I know. I have always been like this. Annoyed. Terrified. On the verge of extinction. My only credibility is that I have made it so far. Crawling, panting, running for life. Besides that there is nothing. And I am totally aware that people who fret a lot and smoke a lot don't live long. Somehow, I just can't relax. This is not just quarter life crisis.
And my life is not a sitcom. And nothing will ever end up fine. But a sitcom is another healer. Every sitcom is like a sensitive, humorous, non cheating, non desperate, tall boy friend that I've had. Also, I have this weird craving, to date a surfer. Once. And live with him in a hut, by the sea.
You see I always come back to the sea. Soon, I will become like one. And I will learn to swim then, or may be surf too.
My canvas, is part color, purple, and hues of violet, copper sulfate, streaks of silver.My canvas is half scratches too, of sketches that were abandoned midway.
Meanwhile, I am thinking about my Right brain. Sitting in the right half of my skull. And how capricious that crazy bitch is. She is one that's pushing me now. Will see me through, till the end.
And oh, happy Valentine's!
What's more healing is this fellow woman who writes. Sometimes I wish so hard to write like her that it makes me want to quit writing altogether. Sans that, almost everyone on this planet is a jerk. Some are outright jerks, some are more tactful. But then that's about it.
This is not quarter life crisis. I know. I have always been like this. Annoyed. Terrified. On the verge of extinction. My only credibility is that I have made it so far. Crawling, panting, running for life. Besides that there is nothing. And I am totally aware that people who fret a lot and smoke a lot don't live long. Somehow, I just can't relax. This is not just quarter life crisis.
And my life is not a sitcom. And nothing will ever end up fine. But a sitcom is another healer. Every sitcom is like a sensitive, humorous, non cheating, non desperate, tall boy friend that I've had. Also, I have this weird craving, to date a surfer. Once. And live with him in a hut, by the sea.
You see I always come back to the sea. Soon, I will become like one. And I will learn to swim then, or may be surf too.
My canvas, is part color, purple, and hues of violet, copper sulfate, streaks of silver.My canvas is half scratches too, of sketches that were abandoned midway.
Meanwhile, I am thinking about my Right brain. Sitting in the right half of my skull. And how capricious that crazy bitch is. She is one that's pushing me now. Will see me through, till the end.
And oh, happy Valentine's!
2 comments:
Hmmm.
Happy Valentines day.
happy valentine's. hugs.
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