(no subject)
I spend my nights reading Greek tragedies - Sophocles' Oedipus and Antigone, Euripides' The Bacchants while sitting in bed feeding myself on ancient sorrow. Uncalled and unwanted pangs of sadness stabs me in the chest; I try to tell myself its because of the dreaded time of the month but it doesn't take these emotions away. Its the kind of sadness you feel after watching a Wong Kar Wai film, one of those that leaves an aftertaste in your mouth. I feel like I'm sitting in a street car, surrounded by windows on both sides as the city passes by; accustomed to walking around the city, it feels strange to see it pass by soundlessly. The silence is deafening.
I am walking through clouds. I wade through them with the stars surrounding me but Night hinders my vision and I cannot see. I grope around but everything I touch flows away with the wind. Maybe everything will be alright one day. Maybe one day I will come to know myself.
Gnothi seauton.
I am walking through clouds. I wade through them with the stars surrounding me but Night hinders my vision and I cannot see. I grope around but everything I touch flows away with the wind. Maybe everything will be alright one day. Maybe one day I will come to know myself.
Gnothi seauton.