A revelation

What if it were true that...

Like a breezy summer morning...

here

Elle était enfin devenue elle-même, ancrée à cette surface rigide qu'est la terre , pragmatique, réonciliant rationalité et fantasme. Elle en a eu assez de traîner ses pensées en bandoulière et de ne plus apprécier la joie des plaisirs simples qui autrefois l'enchantaient et l'emplissaient d'un sentiment d'exaltation candide et profond.
Elle voulait échapper à cette platitude imminente qui la guettait si vicieuse et si maligne, se défaire de cette tranquilité pernicieuse et ne plus avoir à se gaver de ce bonheur insipide. Elle avait toujours eu tendance à anticiper les événements et se délectait de pouvoir ôter aux faits un peu de leur rigidité et de dévier d'une trajectoire qu'elle croyait scellée et immuable, quoique l'anticipation n'a jamais fait son bonheur. Elle s'y adonnait comme à un jeu de pouvoir, un affrontement douloureux dont elle sortait à chaque fois triste et abbatue.

Parfois lorsque je la surprenais à rêvasser la tête dans les étoiles, j'avais envie de la secouer si fort, l'arrâcher à ce cocon tendre et protecteur qu'elle s'est construite au fil des ans. Mais comme à chaque fois, j'avais peur de détruire ces idéaux qu'elle chérissait tant et dont elle nourissait son âme éprise de parfait et d'absolu. J'avais peur de lui refuser l'accès au seul monde où elle pouvait prendre refuge.

Elle m'avouait par moments qu'elle ne savait plus trop se qu'elle voulait ni quoi penser . Elle se contredisait, se parjurait, plaidant à chaque fois une nouvelle cause, clamant que tout autour d'elle est en train de changer et qu'elle même ne se reconnait plus.

Aussi finissais-je toujours par la laisser décider de ce qu'elle voulait faire, l'abandonnant à ses jugements altérés et ses raisonnements décousus, priant pour que le peu de lucidité dont elle pouvait éventuellement se prévaloir ne l'abandonne pas à mi-chemin.

Je m'obstinais à croire en elle et à lui faire confiance. Je voulais qu'elle assume pleinement la portée de ses actes, qu'elle cesse d'avoir peur sans rime ni raison et de se lamenter sur des circonstances immuables échappant totalement à son emprise.

Je la voyais souvent animée d'une fougue juvénile, fantasmée et gavée d'illusion; C'est dans ces moments là qu'emportée par un élan d'émotivité frôlant le délire, elle m'affirmait ne s'être jamais senti aussi heureuse de toute sa vie, qu'elle se sentait libérée de toutes ses angoisses et appréhensions, et que celà ne la surprendrait pas de voir sa langue se délier devant un inconnu et de se retrouver à déverser tout ce qui traverserait son esprit dans la plénitude de l'instant.

Ainsi, basculant entre amertume et exaltation, conformisme et rébellion, rationalité et fantasme; elle est en moi...elle est moi et constitue mon être.

"Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal"
-Albert Camus-

Marzycielski

here

I tried to let go of the reins. To stop pondering things for a while and not to give them a second thought.
So many times I tried to pen down these insomnia induced thoughts, but I felt that words alone would do them no justice. I could not think of any proper means to muffle the voice of my soul. I refrained myself from any outward expression thinking this would only amplify how I felt at that time.
Writing things down gives me power upon my thoughts: I can disguise them, distort the meaning behind them and keep a lot of their intentions under wraps. But it felt like something was stuck in my throat of late, like having this big urge to write without being able to: words seemed to be melting into some kind of stringent indefiniteness whenever I tried to take grip on them. I've come even to ask myself if there mightn’t be some kind of subconscious power interfering with my conscious self that prevents me from giving these mingling emotions an outlet they so crave!
Thus, instead of looking desperately for “active” means of possible outer relief , I considered indulging myself in passive leisure for a while, an opportunity to bask in sheer reading pleasure that never fails to enchant me and revive my senses whenever I'm on the verge of numbness.

I realized I just needed to immmerse myself in some imaginary world, a fictitious story whose characters I can identify with and whose emotions I can relate to, an illusiory reality where the outer world would cease to exist and where I'd be immune to the vicissitudes of my petty existence; and I can only reach this state of serenity and inner contentment through reading.
Words alone have the power to make every preoccupying matter dwindle to smaller proportions. I feel that their meanings carry all the power and magnificience I need to experience and I know that some of this magic is being conveyed to me by the mere act of reading.

Books also inspire me to write whenever I'm lacking inspiration. They make me believe that everything deserves to be transcribed; that the slightest perceptible feeling, the most unexpected insight carries a message for us and is worth being remembered.

I know I tend to feel things too intensely at times that my heart starts racing and pounding like it might jump out of my chest, but I know as well that I can survive the burst of emotions within me. My heart may be lacking the space to contain them all but my mind will always find means of eventual evacuation.

My cutting words and hasty answers reassure me of my own sanity, they are the shield I won't drop unless granted safety. That's what I am, Sometimes just striving to have a normal reaction or to repress emotions showing up at completely inappropriate times. I may be acutely conscious of the absurdity of my feelings, but they'll still be here, welling up within me, invading the serenity of my soul, and threatening to make my face crumple into some conspicuously ill-bred expression.

Guess what I'm doing right now? I'm trying to be "normal"... by my own standards :)

What is blaring in my ears:

Some kind of new find...

I was rummaging through some old photos of mine when I stumbled across this:

It only takes toy sunglasses and a baby life buoy to create a beach atmosphere while remaining in the safety of one's home.
Oh, the simple little joys of being a child :)

PS: Excuse the blurry shot!

Figures from my inturnship

There is:

• Ms S: She is the first person I've been introduced to. She asked me what my name was in addition to a few other questions related to my studies and went on saying that she was particularly very busy (which turned out to be the case for still three other days!!) then handed me some company newsletters dating back two years claiming that would give me an idea on the business process. And so I was left dozing off on a chair the wole day, reading paper written in an excruciating shipping jargon and hearing her interminable phone conversations about her baby's health: If he's had enough sleep, how his temperature must be checked every little while, etc.

• Mr M: .I've only been once let into his office while I was waiting for the approval form to get signed. He scrutinized my CV and application letter but is actually a rather good-natured person with profuse welcome manners.

• Ms B: A former graduate of my (current) school, and to avoid any misapprehensions this statement could've probably given rise to, this woman didn't entertain the slightest "corporatist thought" toward me. Actually, I wasn't allowed to have a bit of a glimpse into what she was doing and so she just sat there scribbling on some paper convulsively while I kept my nose buried in my book; then not before long did she consent to put an end to this unbearably awkward situation and conducted me to another office where I met J, a trainee peparing her master thesis. I was happy I finally found someone to commiserate with as twisted a thought as this may seem.

• Mr S.: An accountant, a man with thick glasses and a tobacco smelling moustache -that revolts me!-, and a voluble speaker above all. He makes every topic a favorite and begins his usual digression; giving every issue the locutive proportions of a "personal cause", vehemently defending positions and shifting abruptly from one subject to another that I sometimes have a hard time following his thread of thoughts. He asks me things like if I've ever been to Europe, if I write poems, among other random spur-of-the-moment questions. However, I'd be so balantly ungrateful if I don't owe this man recognition for the little and sole knowledge I came to acquire during all the time I've spent there so far.

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I'm hesitating as to what I should add as recommended music for there is a lot I've been listening to lately especially by The Fray, OneRepublic and Coldplay. I'll think I'll just add this beautiful piece by OneRepublic. Please enjoy :)