dolorous interludes.

"Yes, it will be good to travel... Why is my heart so sad, though? Is it the fear of the unknown...the pull of old habits...or else...? No, it's too much happiness! Feeble thing that i am! Do you forgive me?"

And so it is decided. Never have i felt so strongly this need in me to travel, and to remove myself from familiarity; drawn to all things foreign, i am, again, nauseated by mediocrity and foolish pragmaticism. My heart yearns to soar and experience new joys unattainable here; my soul is weak from disillusionment, having previously thought that i could make do with passionless practices and dull monotony for a while; my mind is faraway with dreams and fantasies(of ambition and hope, nothing absurdly carnal in nature of course). But what frightens me the most is how my only chance at happiness and the nourishment for my steadily greying heart, rests so heavily in the hands of another. I never thought that one year could do so much to increase my want- i don't think i was half as ready to fly then, nor a third as certain as i am now. Pulsating desire has made me feverish with fear and melancholy, but hopefuly nonetheless. The thought of finally being able to thread on lofty dreams that have been supressed for a while now(in order to continue my daily walk through a dry forest of inconsequential material) fill me with some semblance of optimism, like the winds that invite Spring to give new life to deadened trees. or perhaps, they were hibernating, only to unleash new strength come january.

please let this brand new year mark the beginning of dreams realised. (this dream anyway, i've been waiting far too long)

The only chains of familiarity that i haven't freed myself from(and am not intending to), are my friends and my dad. If all things were perfect, i'd pack my bags now and stuff the people who mean so much to me in them.

posted by voyeur @ 1/06/2005 05:57:00 PM