14/6/15:
I am in bombay today, i must feel like i have come home.
The idea of a home, the house - has blurred in my head - i feel like i no longer belong, nor here, nor there. The idea of moving, through places and time, too hasn't made home in my head. A limbo.
My head, is recovering from a childhood and the adolescence - i now feel, at 25 - i must spend a good part of my life recovering. A recovery.
I recover or say, i try, from everything I've lost - things that were either not mine to keep or choose not to be, but things i held dear nevertheless. My own.
I am left holding nothing dear and at this point of time ( i wrote juncture - but couldn't carry its heaviness), there's nothing i want to do or achieve - to say it in naked, unashamed words -there`s aimless. Drifting
Nothing makes sense, nothing holds on, the permanence i so longed for, from the time i had my first mature thot, has ceased to grant itself to me. And all I'm now living in, is, in its weakest form - the temporal. The tempest. Where the choices i make seem immaterial - there's no better or worse, all that is, is temporary.
The restlessness of the sea, shores up this mind. I get tired of these silly rants, when nothing makes sense amidst all these flying thoughts
hdk
I am in bombay today, i must feel like i have come home.
The idea of a home, the house - has blurred in my head - i feel like i no longer belong, nor here, nor there. The idea of moving, through places and time, too hasn't made home in my head. A limbo.
My head, is recovering from a childhood and the adolescence - i now feel, at 25 - i must spend a good part of my life recovering. A recovery.
I recover or say, i try, from everything I've lost - things that were either not mine to keep or choose not to be, but things i held dear nevertheless. My own.
I am left holding nothing dear and at this point of time ( i wrote juncture - but couldn't carry its heaviness), there's nothing i want to do or achieve - to say it in naked, unashamed words -there`s aimless. Drifting
Nothing makes sense, nothing holds on, the permanence i so longed for, from the time i had my first mature thot, has ceased to grant itself to me. And all I'm now living in, is, in its weakest form - the temporal. The tempest. Where the choices i make seem immaterial - there's no better or worse, all that is, is temporary.
The restlessness of the sea, shores up this mind. I get tired of these silly rants, when nothing makes sense amidst all these flying thoughts
hdk
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