Sunday, 21 August 2011
As I recall, in the words of that certain peculiar fellow, there is something astonishingly romantic indeed about dying a believer.
I was a believer, may still be a believer, and may or may not remain a believer.
In any event, bless the believers, and those who do not believe. On the other hand, curse the headless, and save the heartless, please, for I might be the latter, and a hopeless romantic.
There must be at least one moment in a year, a month, a day, when you feel as if the world revolves around you. In another moment in the year, the month, the day, you'd feel tiny, insignificant, vulnerable, and bare.
When either thought overpowers, close your eyes, and drown yourself in nothingness.