Dearest Public Diary,
There’s this saying I’ve thought about a lot recently .. and have written about on more than one occasion;
in the the ancient and epic poem from India, the Mahabharata, we are told “better to alight in flames, if only for a moment, than to smolder forever in unfulfilled desire.”
I suppose I fall into this sentiment quite naturally as I’ve always lived for passion. I would say that I struggle with impulse control, but I don’t in a physical sense. I am actually quite talented at controlling my actions unto the world, but not talented at wrestling the excitements in my mind. I find it more difficult to write when I am feeling up. I am so content and focused on the experience of living and feeling the ecstasy of the high that to sit and write is to miss out on the feeling altogether. It is easy to write when I am sad and paralyzed in my sheets. In fact, writing is the only outlet that reminds that the vitality of my spirit lives on when I am feeling that way.
Feeeling, feelings, feeeeeelinnng. Feel feel feel feel feel. I reckon I am doing more of it than ever (in every direction). I’d love to divulge the intimate details of my life, but I need more space between the emotions and my body before I put them on public paper. But I will say as I write this, my will to live is willin’
Man, fuck shit damn do I feel freeeeeee! My senses are heightened and if I died tomorrow I’ll have you all know I would be happy in that moment. Everything feels so real when I am happy. You know what I mean? Suddenly I can smell the morning air and even my coffee tastes better and I don’t stop to stare critically in mirrors, because I feel too good to care.
I lit a candle with a match the other day and then proceeded to stick the matchbook directly on my nostrils to smell the sulfur dioxide. Delicious. As much as I love the invisible world, I am so in-love with all things tactile. I guess I’m a bit old-fashioned in that sense. There’s a comfort in the tangible. I will NEVER (unless by force) use an electronic reading device. If I can’t sniff the paper, it’s a no from me. About the matches, though.. there’s something to magic about creating heat (life) with a force that is born from my dexterity. I just like how that sounds. Remember, English rules do not apply here. I wish I gave less of a fuck about how this is being interpreted, but I suppose that’s the nature of the beast. Anyways, imagine how on fire I would feel if I started a fire with some good ‘ol flint?? Who wants to take me camping? You handle the tinder, and I’ll light the fire, ok, baby? We’ll light a flame so beastly it probably won’t matter if we never meet again! The ash marks on my heart won’t fade!
And I don’t even care when I sound so corny because it’s all feeling better than electric.
Footnote advice : un-friend people who make fun of you for being “corny” they are lame, boring, and rude. i will be your friend. Queen Corn. life is an ephemeral dot. did you know there are 200 billion trillion (sextillion) stars in the universe? literally just be dramatic why wouldn’t you
Short and sweet today.
All my heart,
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