When I say “highly emotional”, I don’t mean those people who get a bit weepy at commercials featuring puppies being put down at the pound or teary-eyed at the end of the end of a romantic film; that’s just called having a heart. Continue reading
Is it better to live in this world as an idealist?
It is hard to find fault with a worldview which involves seeing everything through rose-colored glasses, transmuted and distorted into elegant and beautiful and melancholy forms. Continue reading
The point of life, apparently, is to be happy. Unfortunate, then, is it not, that we are bestowed with knowledge that hinders us from achieving this very goal?
For when it comes down to it, the life of a bird and the life of a man are the one and the same: both organisms live and eat and breathe and procreate, then end up dead, in the dirt, a mass of decaying protein. Continue reading
Sometimes, as an INFP, I am not sure certain whether I am sensitive or if other people just lack tact and kindness.
Perhaps my experiences are only a reflection of our times. In today’s age of cut-throat competition amongst people at workplaces and schools and offices and on sports grounds, where money and success are king, and efficiency prized over intuition, “nice” has become synonymous with soft, or weak, and the quiet and reflective dubbed “meek”. Continue reading
There are some days where the world just feels flat. Hollow.
Nothing in the least has changed in it – the people and the streets and the books and the films and the food and the sky are exactly the same as they were a day ago – yet somehow everything feels extraordinarily deflated, dulled, devoid of emotion and wonder and magic. Continue reading
When people meet me in real life, they have a tendency to, well, not like me very much – and I know this because, as a self-proclaimed approval-hungry beast, I am very good at telling, usually in the space of a second or so, whether someone likes me or not. Continue reading
For me, the problem with most books in the fantasy genre is that they are not fantastical enough.
It’s almost as if everyone is born with a tolerance for fantasy and magic, and mine is at the crawl-into-the-womb-of-the-story-and-live-there level. Continue reading
I would like to be the girl who meets you on the corner of the street, I think, just by the red Post Office Box, two people colliding on their way to work, trying to move around the other but ending up blocking the other’s path with each attempt, smiling in spite of ourselves. Continue reading
There is something awfully depressing about summer nights, though it’s hard to say exactly what.
And it’s only summer nights, never winter, wherein one often welcomes the opportunity to snuggle beneath the warm covers, nor autumn or spring, which are generally very cool also. Continue reading
For the longest time, what I struggled with in regards to life was the general, monotonous “sameness” of everyday reality. Occasionally, the sameness is interspersed, here and there, with the bursts of joy that come from falling in love, or getting lost in an especially good book, but the highs never last. Just ask any couple who has been together for more than three years. Continue reading