Sometimes I yearn for something so ephemeral that I can't even articulate it. It is during these times that I find solace in music and reading and art. If I had a camera, a good one and the freedom to go places, I would go to all those wide open spaces where nature is at her peak. I would capture every single angle in frames and keep them with me forever. 

I wish I could paint the beauty that I sometimes see around. I am slightly obsessed with preserving beautiful thing, whether they are moments, or music or scenes. I actually close my eyes and imagine that I am on a cliff somewhere listening to the combined sound  of water and wind whistling through the leaves of the trees of a forest near me. I think it has become a kind of madness that overtakes me. I feel like I need to escape my skin and this scene is often my go to. 

I need sound and silence combined in a way. I wish I could listen to music for eons and I wish I didn't have to talk. I like the fact that in the 21st century we can do this without disturbing others, oh the joys of good headphones. 

I wish I could write in cursive and leave behind interesting titbits for posterity, alas this might not be of interest for two reason A. I am not really a good writer, and B. I don't think anyone would want to read my ramblings on page. Does anybody even read this blog? I think not, thus I feel completely at ease. It is like an online journal for me. 

I think that I yearn for love and acknowledgement. Lately, I feel that my existence doesn't really matter and that no one would probably remember me if I vanished.  In the end that's all anyone wants the beautiful feeling of being loved. 

 Feeling sad all the time has become a way of life for me. There are so many things I want to say. But I am afraid of being laughed at. Some may say I am too loud and some may say I talk too much. When did these become such a big sin? 

I used to think that there was some good in this world. Somewhere out there there must be some examples of kindness and morality winning the day. However as I grow older, I feel wronged, somehow. This past year had taught me that nothing is predictable and things may not go according to plans. However the fact that people haven't still learned to be kind; that oftentimes overlooked virtue, is making me sadder.

I know that this is in a way a very immature way of dealing with what I am going through, writing a blog post on a page people never visit, but this is the void I think that will absorb my embarrassing thoughts. The fact that I have been suffering from inexplicable melancholia from 2003 and having to wear a civilized mask ever since.  

I hope that in an alternate reality, if there is one, my other self is leading a fruitful life. That is all I can write about.