Thursday, 26 February 2009


Recently, my mind has been feeling very blurry. In fact, trying to articulate it now, I am finding it almost impossible. Of course, I have been frantically busy and occupied with life's events which leaves me feeling a little dazed. But there have also been plenty of long, pensive, whiled away hours in which I careen between feeling intensely and oddly blessed, completely despairing and then just bored as I realise I have been spending hours doing nothing much.

I seem to have been rendered incapable of doing anything productive, only thinking and then being unable to translate any thoughts into anything tangible. I don't know if you've noticed it in my posts, but I am writing them much more slowly, with less urgency as my mind meanders along the sentences. I find less and less of what I write making any sense, and having to go back and rewrite. It takes time, time which seems to be evading me, and so I have missed a few days' posts.

I can think of a number of reasons for this. I think that recently I have just been over-stimulated in terms of excitement and opportunities in a very short space of time, and before I was working very hard and getting very stressed, and now I need to do all that again but I can't seem to get my mind back to normalcy. There are too many intense thoughts in my head already. I did a regular writing exercise today where you have to start my writing 'I remember...' and continue for 15 minutes and of course, what came out, but half an hour of painful writing about the person I am constantly, constantly thinking about. This was completely useless and in fact probably detrimental and I thought that that half an hour would have probably been better spent writing a thoughtful post on this blog, but I come on here and all I can write about again is the melting pot of nonsense cluttering my mind.

I thought about posting what I had written for my post, but it felt too personal. I don't want to save it really, but I suppose that even if I was not writing with any clarity or craft, there might be some good bits which come out of using strong emotion.

Paradoxes are always the most painful. Bittersweet aches a thousand times more than plain sadness, but is more addictive than the purest happiness. I sought every extra second to see you, and then pored over every single second as I tried to read your thoughts. Did you hate me, forget me, or worst, not care? My mind wished we had never met. My heart could not contemplate that thought.

Our paths grew closer with the power of words; thousands of words, witty words, some angry words, prosaic words, beautiful unforgettable words. And now these words, this life which seems to be the only way to continue to know you begins to steal my time. Hours while away on this pointless task, and again it is only in my dreams that anything could ever come of this. Maybe you want me to come back into your life too, or maybe you’re just bored and enjoying the novelty of the internet. I don’t know, but now my dreams are nightmares. Now my memories are obliterated by a vision of the paths of our future reaching closer, closer, knocking occasionally against each other’s sides, and then careering off in completely opposite directions, never to be fully intertwined again.

Then I realised that I was writing like a walking, talking, hormone spouting cliche. And I realised that I needed you guys, writers who understand the power of words. You understand how to use words to make people laugh, touch people, inform them, help them, sooth them. I don't know exactly what I know I need you for, maybe just as a reason to be able to write this post for something. Maybe I'll put this under the tag 'SOS' because as clever people, older and wiser, you'll have some sage advice to hand out.

I don't know. I'll write to you when I do.


  1. Paradoxes are always the most painful. Bittersweet aches a thousand times more than plain sadness, but is more addictive than the purest happiness." I want details. I want to know how you know these things. I am curious about how you learned those lessons. That was came to this older if not wiser writer's mind as I read your Proustian reverie.

  2. Ugh. Sounds like limbo to me, my least favorite situation. I'd need some clarity and closure to move on ... can you get hold of this person? Or is it too soon?