A Letter From You to Good Old Mr/Ms Melancholy

Dear Mr/Ms. Melancholy,

Come knock on my door and I'll welcome you with open arms. Though my spirit is poor and lacks charm, I promise you I'll be good company. On your previous visit, I have been rude and chased you away; not knowing that distress unto you meant distress unto me. I am hoping that you will accept my sincere apology and come visit me again. Please come by, I'll shake your hands and we can be friends again. I'll let you in, offer you a cup of tea and listen to your monologues.You would neither be interrupted nor rushed, you may take your time and I'll be patient. If you cry, I'll wipe off your tears and offer you a napkin to blow your nose. I'll hold your hands in mine to let you know that you will be alright. When it is time for you to go I'd hug you and with a kiss on your cheek, wave you goodbye. I'll always be here to welcome you. Always.

Yours truly,
You/Me.

(P/S: Melancholia is never forced upon you. When it comes, you have the choice to refuse or accept it. I think it's a phase worth being in once in awhile.)

GrymmRipper :]

Comments

Surmise

Let the night hypnotize you my friend.. and convince you that the day is your foe. Let darkness which is assumed to be the root of all fear.. show you that the unknown and the unseen will not harm you. Let it surmise that light is an illusion. Let it teach you... that as long as there is fear within you heart.... you will never break free. Darkness is the existence of the nonexistent. And light is the non-existence of the existent. Come close; let me whisper into your ear…. And I’ll tell you that light is truly the root of your fears Darkness is the marrow of non-existence.. And non-existence is freedom’s true essence. GrymmRipper =] (P/S: don't own neither do I take any credit for the image above.)

Spinning wheel

Being the person I am, I wonder, How much of this can I bear,any longer, It goes on and on, Like a spinning wheel,that will never stop. When will it stay peaceful? With no problems and worries. This life goes on and on, Never dwelling in time or moments, No two seconds of life are the same, I can't plead it to move faster, And I can't ask it to slow down. Life is a master of its own, Leading and directing itself. It is out of my control, way out of my reach, I can only nod and follow its tide, High and low,that's how it goes, Often catching me off guard. -lady indira-

Purge

When hollowness creeps up on you in a sure steady pace and you're up against the wall of your skull knowing there is no way out and it is going to get you somehow, panic and frenzy ensues. Low of lows, emptiness flows through the chambers of your heart like liquid nitrogen; freezing the warmth of your blood that's been gushing through you with life. You recognize this experience of being down in the gutters of bleakness. You want to purge it out but it remains within your rectum like dehydrated stool in what seems to be the most glorious form of constipation. Enema falls short of being effective as it only manages to soften the outermost surface of the stool of emptiness and let the little washed out waste dribble out of the anus with no sign of total assuagement. I use enema here as an analogy for short-lived life purposes I have seemed to have been engrossed in throughout these years. None have seemed to hold my steadfastness toward seeing it through to measuring heights...

Noted and Forgotten

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