I’m afraid to write lest I discover a monster staring back at me. Right now my head cannot articulate my heart without the manifestation of confusion.
This is new.
There is an itch beneath my pulse. A friction between skin and blood. It’s the rebellion of the life-force that flows through the organized network of veins. A longing for liberation. For exposure. For freedom.
I’m either being a hypocrite, or I’ve always (rather subconsciously) cherished the sanctity of Life. I’d like to believe the latter. There is hope yet.
My favourite song from the BeeGees. I’ll fall in love with anyone who sings this to me, above the many other love songs my imaginary lover will serenade me with.
On that note, RIP Robin Gibb.
(Source: quote-book)
A scar marred the consistency of the skin of his bald head, forcibly shaved to accommodate the reminder of his tragic accident. There was a glimmer of positivity in his eyes so contagious. However, behind the sheen lay a pool of bitter experiences. The right eye, set off orbit, stared directly into the soul. The most genuine of smiles was produced despite the asymmetrical drooping of the right side of his lips, in between the staccato manner of his speech which once was so fluent. The elevator doors opened, and he called for help in the most dignified manner. Then he had to be left to struggle to maintain control of the wheels he now called legs, all with a smile that transcended the pain.
18 and wheelchair bound because of a brain-damaging accident
And he bade me an adieu with a “God bless you.”
Funny how I admired the relationship in Nick & Nora’s Infinite Playlist so much, and this happens. I think Providence is playing games with me. I am very amused. Hardy har har.
Let the winds howl and blow vehemently. I’m letting go of the reigns. Opening the window. Thinking is taking too much from me. I’d rather be blown away by blind faith, than to be aimlessly rooted to nothing. Trust the wind, it’s the only nothingness with direction.