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SubscriptionsSites I Read
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| It's amazing how I still miss this little reservoir of memories. Even after the times I've neglected it, the connection doesn't seem to cease.
This spring break, I'm going to come back and read. After I read, I am going to respond. That's the only way I can expand my perspective.
Then I'm going to write.
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| Your voice reverberates like the beat of a drum. I taste the stench of greed stained on your breath, whispering, gasping for more. More. There must be more.
Your hunger expresses an emaciated dissatisfaction -- the epitome of gluttonous desire. Have I been the one at fault, or has it been you? A strip of convoluted memories scatter across my mind, distorted and vague.
Evidence of acute mutilation brings a bittersweet confrontation with reality. At last, I see a curious image reflected in the mirror. At last, I see the one at fault.
Imperfect, inconsiderate, incapable me.
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| Engulfed by deadly seclusion,
Surrounded by a blackened masquerade of despondency.
The last dance comes tonight.
A string of melodies strike your ears, your mind,
And travels directly to the core of your soul.
It sings. It aches. It shatters.
And abruptly, it ends.
And suddenly .... you're hopeless.
All over again.
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| Be the encouragement.
Be the motivation.
Be the inspiration. | | |
| I think I've discovered the reason why I stopped writing. The only time when I do feel like writing is when I experience some intense emotion that motivates me to dispel everything that has burdened me. Sometimes when I actually do begin the writing process, I find that I am at a loss for words. I find that I can't clearly point my finger at the situation I am trying to explain, or I can't even understand what I'm feeling at all. But hey .. that happens to everyone, doesn't it?
Maybe I give up too easily. I've written over a hundred pages in essays this semester, but no single page contains a wholehearted expression of emotional depth. I write these essays because I know that it is something that must be done, and not something that I desire to accomplish. When I do actually write for myself, I find the subject going nowhere--a topic with no coherence or clarity. So I cast it all away and remorse at my failure.
I notice that I've also become more submissive with my writing. I fear what I post because I must consider what other may think. I am rarely solely angry or solely disappointed or solely any other emotion. I'm always accompanying one emotion with another emotion to contrast it. I wonder ... why is it that I do that? Why don't I simply express what I feel?
Then again, I wouldn't ever want to be so straightforward and blunt about one emotion I feel at a single moment. Xanga is a public realm .. who know where my articles may travel? My advice: Don't share anything you're not willing to share with the entire world. For me, its become more and more difficult to share anything with anyone.
P.S. Stephanie -- you probably won't be hearing about that environmentally-friendly blog for a pretty long while. Schoolwork doesn't permit me to do anything. The lack of time plus the rant above serves as my excuses. Sadly.
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