Tattoo

Somebody shared a link on my facebook page today-- The idea of getting a tattoo inspired by my favorite book, poem, any piece of literature. 

This:

'I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.'

From :

 

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

--Pablo Neruda

Room-cleaning Psycho

My friend sent me a very disturbing picture today. It was a screenshot of our last few chats and in the last three chats, over two weeks, my answer to every 'whats happening?' has been an embarrassing-- Cleaning my room!!!
The problem is not that I'm a cleanliness freak, but quite the opposite. I'm the queen of untidy. But since when has that started bothering me, and why am I voluntarily cleaning my room all the time without the essential 'clean the room or get out of the house' from my mother.

Is this what growing up means!?

Missing a Camera

"Give me lust, baby.

Flash

Give me Malice.

Flash

Give me detached existential ennui.

Flash

Give me Rampant intellectualism as a coping mechanism."

-- Chuck Palahnuik, Invisible monsters

Post Holiday Sky

I came back home today after a fabulous holiday to this sky.

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on Earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

--W. H. Auden

Drama-free

Last year I made a decision to lead a boring life. I was tired of the incessant drama and gossip and scandal in my life and in the lives of people around me. I was also tired of people not taking me seriously. I decided to be a 'good girl'. I did it for a guy.

It has been less than a year and I'm a bored bore who bores even herself.
This yeas I'm going to get back in drama-mode. No one ever gets bored in drama-mode.




PS- Guys are bullshit. He never even noticed.

This feeling

Toska- noun  - Russian word roughly translated as sadness, melancholia, lugubriousness.

 "No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning, in particular cases it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love sickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom."

--Vladimir Nabokov