some days, i just sit where i am and stare out of my bedroom window, watching the fluffy white clouds float by in the deep blue sky.
other days, i fling myself down onto my bed and stare up at the ceiling, watching the spider weave its web and letting the bright light blind me.

what goes on beneath the calm surface?
wouldn't you like to know.

don't want to lose me, don't want to have to change myself - i say. but nonetheless, i tell you i'll try. so hard, but no choice. i'll have to try. ain't worth it, not to. my feelings, i'm learning how to control them a bit. ignore them a bit. leave them be a bit. shuffle them down the rankings of my Important-Things list a bit.

my middle name, Marie, means bitterness. and other cheery things like sea of sorrow and the like. sort of gives me a license to be melancholy, doesn't it? melancholy never leaves me. it's always lurking somewhere deep in me - i suspect i was made with a huge dose of melancholy and the like when God was creating the fibres of my being in heaven. there's always that little tinge of sadness in the reccesses of my soul, and i'm learning to just embrace it as part of me and not worry too much about it.

i'm happy now, i'm contented and very much happily and contentedly in love. with life, with him, with God, with everything. but at the same time, there're little vestiges of things that keep nibbling on my heels and annoying me, like one of those toy dogs that keep snapping at your heels when they want to play and you don't want to play with them. i'm learning how to ignore these left-over irrational nonsensical things, but to be able to do that i'm taking drastic measures - or am about to, anyway. i don't know if taking the most drastic and retardedly over-the-top course of action is the way to go, but i don't know how else to deal.


from Keats' Ode to Sorrow
... To Sorrow,
I bade good-morrow,
And thought to leave her far away behind;
But cheerly, cheerly,
She loves me dearly;
She is so constant to me, and so kind:
I would deceive her,
And so leave her,
But ah! she is so constant and so kind.

Beneath my palm trees, by the river side,
I sat a weeping: in the whole world wide
There was no one to ask me why I wept;
And so I kept
Brimming the water-lily cups with tears
Cold as my fears.

JOHN KEATS


i feel a lot like that sometimes, that misery and melancholy loves me dearly and is ever so constant in my life, so faithful. ah well.