Category: existential writing
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i feel like i need to write about this. i don’t yet know what it is but still. it is like a knot trying to rip my belly open. i get cramps if i don’t write. i get a gut punch, irritated, and then mad. to not get mentally violent, i need to write and…
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life has a strange way of freaking you out with the things you had visions of the most but expected the least. is it truly feminine intuition or is it really the ultimate mocking of god. every instance of stepping out is stepping up and every scenario that is being played live is mocking me…
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drive yourself home. it will never be the cure because it cannot be cured by an external force. it is what can be clearly revealed to you when you squeeze that one person out of the picture for a minute. what is present in your life, with you, without that? it is why we so…
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a new identity and i am not sure why i crave it. not necessarily a brand new identity but a return to home. the classic returning home theme in myths and all of literature. we all come back to ourselves. it is all a path to finally arrive at the starting point. who you were…
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this saturday, i put on my makeup for myself, held my hand and took myself to the cinema to finally see devil wears prada 2. the last time I did this for myself was when Barbie came out and I think there is magic in women taking themselves to certain places only for their own…
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perhaps looking backwards is really the only way to move forward. i have done some pretty stupid things in the first five years of my twenties. took fast and curious steps. lost many qualities along the way, acquired so many new ones. the things that make me happy and the way i choose to be…
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oh boy, it’s happening. the urge to read poems. the urge to cry with bursts of excitement in the event of absolutely nothing but a thought. the urge to scream without any warning. the impulse to imagine outcomes relentlessly. the drive to play well written plays of kisses and making love in your head. no…
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i have to write this one in black ink because it is the only one i have with me at this moment. but i will underline every word with the purple ink once i get a grip of it, promise. isn’t it also the entire manuscript of life itself? you have to do it with…
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wuthering heights by Emily Brontë, written under her pen name Ellis Bell, is an epitome of a gothic novel. the atmosphere, metaphors, and symbols are all carefully presented in a way that can engulf the reader into the darkness of the book. it is melodramatic in the best way possible. wuthering heights will melancholically show…
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your romanticized solitude and your overstuffed melancholy will be the end of you. your devotion to desperation is almost like feeding your soul with poison. the idealization of the individual being good on its own is the modern tragedy. it creates a generation that doesn’t know about being home sick. disconnected from reality. disconnected from…
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