Category: Catharsis
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the best memories
The best memories remain when the worst are forgotten. None is as great a peacemaker as time, that simmers sharp pangs to a dull ache of the heart and wipes all slates clean when the pain comes to pass. The best memories upholds the smile when the tears are gone. A gunshot with its reverberations inadvertently…
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the fields are frozen gold
As though ten winters have passed since we arrived, thin ice beneath our heels, snowflakes in our breath. Lucent white in ten miles’ sight no sign of impending summer. Yet somebody dreamt of this perfect world. Such a waste of lush green pastures every leaf chilled to the very spine – botanical shards of piercing ice.…
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point blank
“Happiness is the best revenge, you know? Just be happy. It’s a choice.” ― Emily Giffin, Heart of the Matter
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The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West
“She dropped her shyness like a nightgown, and in the liquid glare of sunlight on old boards she held up her hands-as if, in the terror of the upcoming skirmish, she had at last understood that she was beautiful. In her own way.” ― Gregory Maguire, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the…
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camera obscura
“Maybe the only thing each of us can see is our own shadow. Carl Jung called this his shadow work. He said we never see others. Instead we see only aspects of ourselves that fall over them. Shadows. Projections. Our associations. The same way old painters would sit in a tiny dark room and trace…
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take a holiday from reality whenever you like
“Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the overcompensations for misery. And, of course, stability isn’t nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt. Happiness…
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headlights, buggies, immaculate Pixar movies
So this lifelong paper chase concludes in February with the Bachelor’s degree conferred on me yet the anticipated pride hasn’t hit, let alone any sense of accomplishment at having survived the insanely rigorous rite of passage into the adults’ society. Why then, did this flimsy piece of paper hold more intrigue ten years ago, than…
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152. passing judgements
Detest moments when people decide I’m a pushover. Or I’m a slut, or that I’m a bimbo or a retard. Maybe I’m a little bit of all of these, but who are you to judge. I say moments because I’m almost certain it’s not fully intentional, unless of course it’s fully with intent then I…
Viktoria Jean 