There are many ways to it, our expression of emotions that momentary engulf us, and each of us, within ourselves there is that one path which we use to express it. Some, force it onto themselves, compressing it believing that they can take it, and it is their fate and they are meant to endure such emotions. Some scream and yell, letting it all out for the world to see.

Perhaps this is how, I choose to express my emotions. By withdrawal. By running away. I don't think it's right either, but perhaps this was how I've trained myself to react against things that go against my will, instead of how I used to just blow up in front of everything.

Perhaps why this is making me feel so miserable, is because it makes me feel inadequate, and as a result I strive to exceed myself
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Saturday, November 20, 2010

ranting

It's a Friday's night, and I'm leaving for home. It rained and thundered a while back, but when I got to my car the wet weather was at it's last laps, dwindling down to mere occasional droplets on the windscreen.

I love how everything is after the rain. The lights are clearer, the buildings sharper, and the air feels just about right. Driving home, soothes the soul somewhat. There's a calmness to it, there's a weird warmth of heading home, the one place where the externalities of life are exactly that, mere externalities, easily discarded in the place where one releases their internal energies.

Lately my journey home has been accompanied by slow music. I've never asked myself why, but I think it needs no explanation. Music, like art, is something you just identify it at a subconscious, subliminal level. Slow music set against the night lights and tall buildings, over time, evokes a kind of sadness, or more appropriately, a kind of aged, jaded bitterness about life, like someone who's lost everything, and has come to terms with the fact.

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