No Escape Either Way

Close upon four days. Actually approximately twenty-one minutes shy of four days since my steely resolve not to wallow in the all too soothing depressive nectar – tears.
All fond remembrances, fears and doubts of the future that keep cropping up in this self-imposed amniotic world elicits signs of downpour – trembling lips wobbling chin, moist eyes and quavering voice – man at his ugliest of utter despair – before he can sink into the welcoming pain. Surrender to the lump in his heart, rising up now to his throat while the difficulty of swallowing almost teases him with the idea of a welcome death.

Till with long drawn out breath, he gasps, either fighting the urge to succumb or gives in and lingers on the pain. No escape. Either way.

11th Sept. ’04 (9.04 pm)

Psychological Morbidity

Three near-flawless pieces every ten minutes. Funny how despair – all rotting, life blood draining – has the power to create.

To create “bookshelf” pieces; to be picked up casually and flipped through; to be pronounced heavenly or hideous; and then to be stored away for intellectual flouting. Power of praised and expertise of word-culling and placing commended.
Source of such, No matter.
This is all psychological morbidity of a literary nature.
Now doesn’t this all sound grand ?
Where did you read for your Degree ?

11th Sept. ’04
9.15 pm