Pastel Lockscreen

“It’s always dark. The sky if not grey, is black. The snow thigh high slowly grows waist deep. But the tall woman, her dark shawl pulled taut, walks on anyway. The tall woman walks alone, deeper into the woods among a crowd of trees she finds her place”

— Sujata Bhatt, from “She Finds Her Place”, Collected Poems

“Have you ever sat there, looking into space and feeling a tight grip wrapped around your heart, it’s squeezing and squeezing not allowing you to breathe and slowly slowly you start to feel the tears fall down, and one after another the fits start to happen and you just can’t stop it. It hurts so bad it’s indescribable. People say love hurts, but that words used are so vague, “love hurts”, no love kills, and it doesn’t just take your breath away it takes away a piece of you, making you feel fragmented, shattering you into small different pieces where you can’t even get yourself back up on track again. That is what love is. Not the holding hands, forehead kisses. It’s the feeling you feel when you break down into a million pieces. It’s when you can feel your heart shatter against your rib cage. It’s murder. That is love.”

Tranquility engulfs me;

to breathe

feels redundantly inadequate.

The sky

urges my meekness

to come forth.

As a sombre feeling

now lays itself on my heart,

a forlorn memory

makes its way

across my walls.

A nurtured wish;

A longing for the unattainable;

A void wishing to be filled.

No more than an instant,

yet unreachable from this well.

And as upon me

the start begin their show,

I have but two choices:

drown,

or rushing into a dead sprint.

Though I am keen

on embracing my wish,

I luck the strenght

to get on my feet.

#DiaryOfAGirlMisunderstood

The Letter I was Afraid to Send

It wasn’t that the feeling for you wasn’t there. It wasn’t that the love I have for you was momentary and based on temporary stimulations - I just wasn’t ready.

Thank you for being who you are, for the man you are. I wasn’t ready for the direction you were heading in. I wasn’t ready to hold your hand and be your eyes when you lose your way. I wasn’t ready to be part of a storyline that I felt I felt I had no part in.

Parts of me were scared of you, scared of the depths that exist within you. My own biggest fear was that my own inhibitions would throw rocks on your path and slow you down from getting to your destination. I was scared my flaws hindered you from being the man you want to be. I was scared that my own shortcomings would become your shortcomings because pain has a way becoming contagious when you’re in a relationship with someone who feels as deep as you do.

At that time, I felt that I was being considerate. Now I realize how selfish I was I can admit I should’ve been better and that you definitely deserve better

“Human beings are so made that the ones who do the crushing feel nothing; it is the person crushed who feels what is happening. Unless one has placed oneself on the side of the oppressed, to feel with them, one cannot understand.”

— Simone Weil, Lectures on Philosophy

Over night

As I’m grasping the intentions of the storm, Breeding discord between thunderclouds, My hands try to touch the aerial body of the night, Chasing for voices in the air, That got locked out until sunrise to cool down, I’m Proficient to decipher the ordeal of summerdays. Catching the breeze, Like Nabokov caught butterflies, As subconscious ambiguities ascend like Bubbles in water, Piercing the surface of my consciousness, To tell vivid tales about the opulence My perception gathers.

Kerim Mallée

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““When I ask you about your first love I am always secretly hoping that you will say your own name. Now, wouldn’t that be beautiful – to above else have a heart that was proud of itself.” - Bianca Sparacino”

—

Loneliness is a Dangerous Thing

‘Everyone knows there are forms of cruelty which can injure a man’s life without injuring his body. They are such as deprive him of a certain form of food necessary to the life of the soul.’                     - Simone Weil, The Need for Roots

Rootlessness and homelessness, though similar in nature, are also quite different. A person who is rootless may very well have a home, but does not have a sense of belonging, they identify themselves as ‘the other’. 

Since the end of World War II, migration has increased significantly with people opting to set up their life somewhere new, whether this be for a job, education, religion, or whatever opportunity this may provide. A person disentangles themselves from the ties and bonds that they have with one place and form this relationship somewhere new… this is now home.

But home for you may not always be home for the new family that you set up. I have mentioned this before in another post so I won’t go into it in too much detail, but when looking at those with extremist and ‘radical’ thoughts, we find that they are often children of those who have migrated. The parents have chosen to build home in a new foreign land and build a relationship with that place, but the relationship is not so straight forward. This relationship is a half way house between assimilating and holding onto one’s culture; the migrant chooses which parts of the new culture to adopt and which parts of their old culture to hold onto. This might vary from eating and drinking habits, clothing, social life, it could be anything. 

The child of the migrant however, having not chosen but instead having been brought up with this conflict between the two cultures feels lost. This is something I have thought about for a long time, but Arendt put it into the words I have been searching for for so long. 

The child feels a sense of rootlessness. 

Arendt argues that those who feel rootless or homeless will seek out a home for themselves at any cost, which can have disastrous consequences. 

She states that for an individual who feels rootless and homeless, often with this comes the feeling of having an existence that is not meaningful or fruitful. To find this sense of belonging, individuals often turn to exclusionary movements and groups, which actually only increases the feeling of alienation and rootlessness. Now they are in a group that only contains people such as themselves, perhaps from one place, class, religion, etc. all together feeling like outsiders, because of the absence of others of a different background. 

Arendt says that uprootedness has been ‘the curse of the modern masses since the beginning of the industrial revolution’.

Loneliness is a dangerous thing. When a person is lonely, when they feel their roots are not in any ground but sort of drifting from place to place, a person is not themselves. Who are we, after all, without a background against us? Just an entity, perhaps? 

‘To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognised need of the human soul.’