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When they made me, they broke the mold.
the sojourn has begun
Created on 2004-08-17 03:58:55 (#4218481), last updated 2009-11-18
1,260 comments received, 1,578 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
505 Journal Entries, 4 Tags, 23 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 4 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | winter is coming |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 1987-02-18 |
| Location: | qc, Philippines |
| Website: | ever vigilant |
Contact:
jongz_nqbs@yahoo.com BioIt always feel strange when I find myself, during the quiet moments of any day, bitching in front of the computer screen - complaining about the current situation of my life and the unsolved equations that seem to bore themselves deep in my head. That's the way it is, I guess, being twenty something and directionless. The days and nights of staring blankly at nothing in particular or this supine existence become a ritual.
The way that ennui adopts a serpentine quality as it slithers into my system is an unfortunately regular event. I was immensely saddened when I discovered that I cannot live in the moment as I had in the early days of my youth. I always wonder where I am headed in my life, but my (too analytical, too pathetic) musings never get me anywhere. They always just leave me at the here and now (and most recently, at the "then’s".)
Burrowing into books, reading into literary illusions of how I wish my life is, is a temporary crutch that I am loathe to disown. I find the certainty of a story's ending enviable. But the ironic part is that whenever I finish a book, the finality crash lands into me and the impact is nothing short of heart breaking.
I don't feel like I am the protagonist of my life anymore. I have no idea how I am to wrest the reigns from something that I cannot even comprehend. Something that cannot even be named (it's not depression; it's something worse ... or maybe better?) Maybe the best course of action is to ride this storm out …though I have no idea how to navigate this vessel that is me.
The way that ennui adopts a serpentine quality as it slithers into my system is an unfortunately regular event. I was immensely saddened when I discovered that I cannot live in the moment as I had in the early days of my youth. I always wonder where I am headed in my life, but my (too analytical, too pathetic) musings never get me anywhere. They always just leave me at the here and now (and most recently, at the "then’s".)
Burrowing into books, reading into literary illusions of how I wish my life is, is a temporary crutch that I am loathe to disown. I find the certainty of a story's ending enviable. But the ironic part is that whenever I finish a book, the finality crash lands into me and the impact is nothing short of heart breaking.
I don't feel like I am the protagonist of my life anymore. I have no idea how I am to wrest the reigns from something that I cannot even comprehend. Something that cannot even be named (it's not depression; it's something worse ... or maybe better?) Maybe the best course of action is to ride this storm out …though I have no idea how to navigate this vessel that is me.
ConnectInterests (16):
barkada, busrides, ceska, dreaming, laughing, listening, love, lrt rides, music, pagmamahalan, poetry, puking pink potatoes, reading, singing, trike rides, writing
External Services:
 | hotpoetic@livejournal.com | |
 | monotonous_jong |
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