Reading for me has become a solace, for me reading was always an escape. Books made me feel less worthless, I felt needed when I read books, now though, it is as if reading is the only pursuit that makes me feel a sense of self worth, I feel beautiful and powerful simultaneously, I feel like I matter and the best thing about reading is that I can live an relive feelings some I shall never feel in my life.....
I had a particularly visceral reaction whilst reading a book where the protagonists kill themselves. I felt relieved in their act of courage, I don't think taking one's life is cowardice, perhaps it is a cultural thing that Indians carry in their DNA, for we have had long a glorious traditions of death by self wish, in fact most religious and cultural traditions view the act of taking one's life as honourable and the greatest act of independence an individual can carry out.
Does that mean that I am suicidal? I think not; but my preoccupation with life and death has intensified for the past couple of years, I find myself pondering questions about things like life after death, the soul, the meaning of existence. I am no philosopher, but I feel that life should have meaning. What I mean to say is that one's life should be led in the pursuit of making someone else's life less painful.
I find the modern age in which we live increasingly selfish, I mean look at the consequences of the selfishness people are increasingly displaying all over the world. This had led to a rise in hatred towards others and caused rifts in society that I fear can't be undone.
In fact I have felt this in my own life and now feel an increasing need to isolate myself. In the absence of good company, I find myself turning towards my only love in life books. I feel that this form of escapism is helping me cope with a lot of bouts of severe melancholia, I end this post with a wish, that I hope others in the same circumstances can discover the balm books are capable of providing.
I had a particularly visceral reaction whilst reading a book where the protagonists kill themselves. I felt relieved in their act of courage, I don't think taking one's life is cowardice, perhaps it is a cultural thing that Indians carry in their DNA, for we have had long a glorious traditions of death by self wish, in fact most religious and cultural traditions view the act of taking one's life as honourable and the greatest act of independence an individual can carry out.
Does that mean that I am suicidal? I think not; but my preoccupation with life and death has intensified for the past couple of years, I find myself pondering questions about things like life after death, the soul, the meaning of existence. I am no philosopher, but I feel that life should have meaning. What I mean to say is that one's life should be led in the pursuit of making someone else's life less painful.
I find the modern age in which we live increasingly selfish, I mean look at the consequences of the selfishness people are increasingly displaying all over the world. This had led to a rise in hatred towards others and caused rifts in society that I fear can't be undone.
In fact I have felt this in my own life and now feel an increasing need to isolate myself. In the absence of good company, I find myself turning towards my only love in life books. I feel that this form of escapism is helping me cope with a lot of bouts of severe melancholia, I end this post with a wish, that I hope others in the same circumstances can discover the balm books are capable of providing.
