Not everything has to mean something: June 2018

Tuesday, June 5, 2018

Lately it feels as if the days have just been rushing by, I can barely keep up with myself. Today I looked up some of the files I kept during my workshop days and found a smattering of poetry and prose. Some painfully amateur and lacking in depth, and others more full-fleshed. It reminded me that somewhere in me, lies the capability to write, and that somehow made me feel incredibly lost.

I haven't written in at least 2.5 years - like anything else, writing is really a skill that needs to be practised and honed. While I was never a prolific writer, I was at least decent when I put time towards revising and reworking my pieces. And the more consistently I wrote, the more I was able to put out good work. I can't really pin down how I feel about this apart from saying that I feel mildly disappointed in myself for not applying myself more ardently to the things that I love/d. And even that explanation doesn't quite hit the nail on the head.

I guess I have forgiven myself for letting a couple of things go in my life, for the sake of pursuing more "worthwhile" goals. But this doesn't mean that I don't feel a sense of loss as a result. I have never been adept at saying goodbye - even to things like this, arbitrary as it may seem.

I have been feeling rather unsettled lately and it's really not a good colour on me.

I wrote this when I was 21, it's by no means a great work of art but I think it was the first piece that came together nicely. I wrote it at a fairly stressful time in my life so it means something to me, I'm not sure what:

tangent

they say that tangent lines
have one chance to
meet and then
part
forever.

travelling on the same curve
that slants them
towards each other
but never touching again.

perhaps the case is that
you are the x
to my y axis
converging only
once.

as if the meeting will
never be more than a mere
occupation of
space, and
time:

a series of dots
that make up two
intersecting lines,
that will never
meet again.