Skip to main content

Monotony

There are contrails in the orange sky as I look out the window. It makes me contemplate for a moment. It seems to me that my reduction into the lowest form of depression has manifested itself quite rapidly, perhaps at the loss of purpose and love, as a result of the mundane things -- which were not mundane at all -- that I took for granted. My aggression towards the end sealed my fate, and now I am left barenaked to witness the gradual loss of my persona. I shudder to think of what lies ahead. All I want, all I still want, all that I have ever wanted, is a new purpose.

I cannot blame everything on Mioseon. That was on me. It was my biggest mistake. The things that I did, I did because I grew desperate. It consumed the totality of my being. From the moment that we met, I was sure that my life had begun, that that was it. My life found meaning and purpose. The joy and the pain eventually came, but I grew complacent. We were meant to be together, I thought. None of us could have anticipated. One of us had to give in, and one of us gave up.

It's been too long. Too long a time for mourning. Nothing of value came my way soonafter. Everything was taken away.

I miss the conflicts. I miss everything about me when Mioseon showed me what it means to be alive, to affect another's life beyond my own, and to stimulate the other into grace. These things occurred without me not realising the effect of my actions. It was all spontaneous. A big bag of circumstances with a straight line and filled with heart. Love was at the center, through the good times and bad.

Now I wait. Constantly and eagerly for an answer. Where do I go from here? I would follow the tip of the contrails if I could. If only all of that led to Mioseon.

Popular posts from this blog

Strange Fruit

I had recently adorned a vow of silence for myself with Miriam for no apparent reason whatsoever other than to suit my whim, and, regardless of the pettiness associated with this misdemeanour, I pray this will only strengthen us both in spirit for the coming days. The coming days are definitely not meant for one such as me.
In the next few hours, not shortly before I am done with this piece, this vow will be disavowed. Miriam is sleeping soundly in my right, broken by the exhaustion that seemed to catch her unaware. This was not what she had prepared for when coming to London. This was not what I meant for her when I asked her to come. In order to alleviate the guilt of me making it more difficult for us both, I do what it is that I do best, and that is to love her hungrily and wildly. And some little bit of swag on the side to cure her state of frustration albeit temporarily.
My days are long and yet wields very little. For now I do and take whatever I can, whenever I can. A grand f…

Snippet: In her darkest days, Elaine (worldbuilding), unfinished

Voices of strange busybodies could be heard on the other side of the edifice. Elaine reckoned she recognised one of them. An old friend. Perhaps not necessarily a friend, or not technically a friend. A friend is a rare commodity for her these days. She could walk right past them and not blink an eye, but Elaine waited for a little bit more until the lot toned down. Having a group of opposites around her, poking her skin through their eyes, meticulously making sure she was an enabler who to them an abundant source of entertainment, was all the reason needed to convince herself to back away from the complexity of it all. Home is an awful lot more awful than this place though, Elaine thought, as she gripped her handbag tightly, hoping the ray of darkness from the moon would envelope her and shield her from the attention of the lonesome trail.
"This would not have happened had you only listened to me, Elaine," complained Darco. "Half the people out there would skin us both…

Decide my fate for me

As though the wind may pass with golden steps from shallow graves, the warmth of her hands could not defeat January weather in England, proving that tests of fate weigh heavier than the insidious intentions of a warring tribe. Perhaps it is high time I engage in other methods more worthy of personal consideration. She left me in the cold when my reality cloaked in malady was in full motion, sweating icicles in the interior, punching my guts in gutsy ups and gutsy downs. She was my meaning. She is my void.