Thursday, July 12, 2007

On capricious days that alternate between bright sunshine and sudden rain, I vacillate between endless optimism and definite annihilation (not that the latter option is all that cheerless).

And I indulge in my favorite pastime; mental rants against dying lovers, dishonest uncles, patriarchal ancestors, annoying aunts and bad friends. The things they didn't do, the faiths they bertrayed, the acts they ran from, the absences they didn't account for, the loves they didn't claim. An endless series of nots. Sometimes, at the end of this, I feel better. For laying to rest the pretence that I don't care. Most times, I wish I didn't. Care that is.

There is of course, a very clear knowledge that I have been my own set of nots to other people, a whole other set of failures to account for. And yet, I think, in my own petulantly certain stubbornness, that I try. Very hard. And I have this mental picture of myself, fists bunched and hair tousled, mouth set tight, trying so hard to try.

Catharsis, everyday.

1 comment:

shrik said...

Trying to try.. classic recursion problem.