La figlia delle stelle
Saturday, 11 October 2008
11.48am
How can it be this beautiful? How can it be this beautiful? This is what I kept asking myself today while walking in the park. It’s that favourite time of the year for me again. And today, the heavenly beams shone brightly on me, crisp leaves crackled under my feet and auburn leaves fell on me. It was good. It was too good.
To be very frank, I’ve been complete mash. I’ve been crying alot recently. Each time I go to church, I silently shed tears when I sing. I cry silently in the shower after a long tough day at work. I cried at lunch time this week when no one was looking. I felt my tears welling up when I finished the last chapter of Jean-Dominique Bauby’s ‘The Diving-Bell And The Butterfly’ while waiting for the tube to come. I really need a reassuring pat on the back and a proper hug.
I remember the last time someone held me. We stood at the bus terminal to say goodbye. It was an awkard hug because he was tall and my head barely reached his chin. We held each other politely. I had an urge to draw him close, and stoke his back and tell him I was sorry. But it is impossible to apologize about something unsaid, something yet to happen even though you know it may.
In general, the people closer to me know I don’t like to be touched. I have to clarify this. I don’t like to be touched unmeaningfully. There’s the general cheek kiss, long-time-no-see-hug, how-are-you-hug which is all well, but not of any particular significance.
I felt myself ready to cry when I read the last chapters of Bauby’s ‘The Diving-Bell And The Butterfly’ when I’d come to the realization that I was experiencing the exact opposite of what the author experienced. Bauby suffered a stoke which left him unable to do anything physically even thought his mind was as able as before. Recently, I feel like my body is active and going through the general motions of life, but my mind is inert, like my soul has lost its spirit and my mind has lost its vitality.
I want to be the daughter of stars. I want to bath in the moonlight. I want to prance wildly in a field of tall grass at midnight and feel its blades sliding past my fingertips.I want to breath the air of degenerating leaves in the depths of an Autumn night. I want to be held again and feel the tenderness of being held. It may be dark and I've lost sight, but at least I want to feel something stiring within me. I need a real hug....
On Player_Notice_By Gomez
11.48am
How can it be this beautiful? How can it be this beautiful? This is what I kept asking myself today while walking in the park. It’s that favourite time of the year for me again. And today, the heavenly beams shone brightly on me, crisp leaves crackled under my feet and auburn leaves fell on me. It was good. It was too good.
To be very frank, I’ve been complete mash. I’ve been crying alot recently. Each time I go to church, I silently shed tears when I sing. I cry silently in the shower after a long tough day at work. I cried at lunch time this week when no one was looking. I felt my tears welling up when I finished the last chapter of Jean-Dominique Bauby’s ‘The Diving-Bell And The Butterfly’ while waiting for the tube to come. I really need a reassuring pat on the back and a proper hug.
I remember the last time someone held me. We stood at the bus terminal to say goodbye. It was an awkard hug because he was tall and my head barely reached his chin. We held each other politely. I had an urge to draw him close, and stoke his back and tell him I was sorry. But it is impossible to apologize about something unsaid, something yet to happen even though you know it may.
In general, the people closer to me know I don’t like to be touched. I have to clarify this. I don’t like to be touched unmeaningfully. There’s the general cheek kiss, long-time-no-see-hug, how-are-you-hug which is all well, but not of any particular significance.
I felt myself ready to cry when I read the last chapters of Bauby’s ‘The Diving-Bell And The Butterfly’ when I’d come to the realization that I was experiencing the exact opposite of what the author experienced. Bauby suffered a stoke which left him unable to do anything physically even thought his mind was as able as before. Recently, I feel like my body is active and going through the general motions of life, but my mind is inert, like my soul has lost its spirit and my mind has lost its vitality.
I want to be the daughter of stars. I want to bath in the moonlight. I want to prance wildly in a field of tall grass at midnight and feel its blades sliding past my fingertips.I want to breath the air of degenerating leaves in the depths of an Autumn night. I want to be held again and feel the tenderness of being held. It may be dark and I've lost sight, but at least I want to feel something stiring within me. I need a real hug....
On Player_Notice_By Gomez
posted by Cloudjuice at 12:52 am
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