“they were some of the best and worst times of my life,”

followed by a deep long sigh, i explained, would be the kind of response i would give if people ever asked me about the things i hardly talk about anymore. and in that sigh, the wave of memories, sometimes whole scenes would just rush through and i would be thinking of how i could ever convey such a … a concept of living to anybody who hasn’t lived it him/herself, which is everyone anyways, save a handful. and who wants to live a life constantly digging and re-digging up the dead; as deprived of the honor it merited while it was still very much alive, and although what is gone may only remain as mere and gradually fainter and fainter memories tucked in the corners of our minds, we ought not to dishonor them further by not laying them down to rest in peace, what they deserve. but thankfully, no one asks anyways.

perhaps this state of feeling part contemplative, part nostalgic, part disatisfied with the past, part everything, which people tend to frequently loosely and distantly term as ’emo’, (which really emcompasses more things that they intend anyways) has its roots in some of the very eloquent and deep feeling blogs on the right. like this (urging me to scribble annotations and prac crit the whole piece but i just couldn’t possibly kind of) poem i just read off keng’s:

Wendy Cope

Some men never think of it.
You did. You’d come along
And say you’d nearly brought me flowers
But something had gone wrong.

The shop was closed. Or you had doubts –
The sort that minds like ours
Dream up incessantly. You thought
I might not want your flowers.

It made me smile and hug you then.
Now I can only smile.
But, look, the flowers you nearly brought
Have lasted all this while.



~ by moz on October 6, 2007.

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