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Abandon surrounding abandon, tenderness touching tenderness...
I wonder at the fact that my life seemingly quivers and sways, as if I am some wayward sailboat drifting in a sea of the Fates' threads. I have no paddle, and my sails are neatly gathered away. I sit back, feel the breeze, and watch the sea shimmer.
I feel as though I am not there.
There is comfort in being an outsider, a mere observer. There is less emotional risk, surely, but there is also the comfort that you are obliged to do nothing. Sometimes, I want that sort of nothingness. My usual burdens are heavy, and indulging in this - Escapism? Irresponsibility? Solipsism? - is how I deal.
{ I know you don't like how I deal with things. You like to think that breaking down my walls brick by brick leads to my salvation, that ripping off these scabs will magically turn my vulnerability into inner strength.
It won't.
I am not as good as you've led yourself to believe.
My cracks are not there for you to fix.
They do not make me beautiful.
I am who I am, and sometimes, I just wish you'd I accept that.}
I once had an anchor, and it was a beautiful anchor. My anchor was glimmering sunlight, the first dew of grass in spring, the very air I breathe. And this anchor kept me grounded even as the sea of threads shifted and retreated. But this anchor rusted away, eventually allowing itself to be washed ashore, while I...
I chose atrophy, stretching standstill in the middle of the glimmering sea.
Abandon entouré d'abandon,
tendresse touchant aux tendresses…
C'est ton intérieur qui sans cesse
se caresse, dirait-on;
se caresse en soi-même,
par son propre reflet éclairé.
Ainsi tu inventes le thème
du Narcisse exaucé.
-- Rainer Maria Rilke
I feel as though I am not there.
There is comfort in being an outsider, a mere observer. There is less emotional risk, surely, but there is also the comfort that you are obliged to do nothing. Sometimes, I want that sort of nothingness. My usual burdens are heavy, and indulging in this - Escapism? Irresponsibility? Solipsism? - is how I deal.
{ I know you don't like how I deal with things. You like to think that breaking down my walls brick by brick leads to my salvation, that ripping off these scabs will magically turn my vulnerability into inner strength.
It won't.
I am not as good as you've led yourself to believe.
My cracks are not there for you to fix.
They do not make me beautiful.
I am who I am, and sometimes, I just wish you'd I accept that.}
I once had an anchor, and it was a beautiful anchor. My anchor was glimmering sunlight, the first dew of grass in spring, the very air I breathe. And this anchor kept me grounded even as the sea of threads shifted and retreated. But this anchor rusted away, eventually allowing itself to be washed ashore, while I...
I chose atrophy, stretching standstill in the middle of the glimmering sea.
Abandon entouré d'abandon,
tendresse touchant aux tendresses…
C'est ton intérieur qui sans cesse
se caresse, dirait-on;
se caresse en soi-même,
par son propre reflet éclairé.
Ainsi tu inventes le thème
du Narcisse exaucé.
-- Rainer Maria Rilke
Total Comments 6
Comments
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Nice story great visuals in my head when i read it almost as if i was in a museum of moving images and i was just standing in 1 spot as portraits moved across my face and around my body haha.Posted 10-05-2008 at 09:24 AM by Ronin
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...I was having an emo moment. Bad, baaaaad memories. :UPosted 10-06-2008 at 01:14 AM by Catharsis
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/pats
you know those memories can be /sweeps off
...uhm...not all :xPosted 10-06-2008 at 01:19 AM by Miyuki
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existential meltdown and loneliness? if only these things didn't come so often!
hope you feel better thoughPosted 10-06-2008 at 07:16 PM by PedroRomero
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Cath, you need to write a book one day.
If you do, I will definitely buy it.Posted 10-07-2008 at 05:49 PM by Ascherit
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Must agree with Senpai. ;-;Posted 10-07-2008 at 05:51 PM by Haiko
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