Tag Archives: sadness

On Reading

On Reading

This is long over due, to the point where this should have been my first note.  But I had the urge to pull Proust from my book shelf and read his opening paragragh/sentence to “Days of Reading” and I still so full heartily agree.  I cannot say it better.  There is just some nostalgic essence in remembering the many books I kept my nose in.  I understand why they want children to read, more so than ever, because I can draw on experiences that I never actually experienced to aid my waking life.

I feel a sadness for it actually. I cannot get back to that place in my mind, I cannot revisit those stories as I first experienced them because I am no longer at that stage.  I no longer escape life into fantasy because I’ve managed to merge my fantasy with real life and I am content.  Therefore I seek no solace, no need to reach into another world of make-believe.  Now I am merely interested in cool concepts and stories that guide me into deeper understanding and meaning into my actual daily existence.  I am at one side excited about all I learn about in the real world beyond my home town, but at the same time depressed over my inability to connect with characters and events of stories long past.  An entire world of existance taken away from me by time and experience.  I’m forced to grasp to what I can, desperately for some peace of mind to avoid becoming like those jaded folks who tell me that fantasy world never existed in the first place.  Oh believe me, it is real, I have my personality to prove it.

On Sadness

On Sadness

I guess with happiness, tragedy must be in there somewhere. Fortunately I had the luck of being spared compounded tragedies in life until adulthood, but perhaps that has weakened me; Not having to go through death happening so close to home, especially not this sudden, really gave me a false idea of what life was. I could ask myself a million times, why? why? why? why now? why so soon?

Can’t I have a few more years, just a few, to enjoy this more…. to not have to feel like pieces are fading and gap are going to have to be filled with yet more pieces that will fade? I just want something to hold on to, to hold me up and catch me when I fall, to be there for and build upon, but life doesn’t work that way; it throws the whole range of itself at me at some point, and lately, when I least expect it. Try as I might to hide from life’s sirens, they find me, grab hold of my heart and clench it. If there was no love, we would never know the extent of how horrid this underlying sadness can be and would also be desensitized to its misery. So perhaps love is to blame…