Why do questions make me feel isolated. Are they meant just for me. For me to form, seek answers to, perhaps re-form, perhaps recognise that what I thought were the answers are not so; that they are still a belief or something that someone has said.
How I wish I had someone, someone to share these thoughts with. Someone who understood what I was talking. Perhaps he too had the same questions.
The sharing is not to get a validation but perhaps a resting place, a safe haven. Somewhere where we could be just ourselves; where there is no need to appear sane/insane, no need to have a front; where rambunctious laughter lives side by side with no-reason-tears; where "I dont knows" are as numerous as "knowings" are few; where feelings are intense and yet one feels like a rock.
Where do I go?
How I wish I had someone, someone to share these thoughts with. Someone who understood what I was talking. Perhaps he too had the same questions.
The sharing is not to get a validation but perhaps a resting place, a safe haven. Somewhere where we could be just ourselves; where there is no need to appear sane/insane, no need to have a front; where rambunctious laughter lives side by side with no-reason-tears; where "I dont knows" are as numerous as "knowings" are few; where feelings are intense and yet one feels like a rock.
Where do I go?
blogged by Asmita at 10:15 am
2 Comments:
Lovely thoughts..all i know is that there are no questions for which there are no answers and no problems for which there isnt a solution..they take their time in coming to us-the answers,but they do!
:)
Dear Asmita,
the articulateness of the longing expressed in this fine prose perhaps represents an important "tool" -- such a sense of clarity (even if it's clearness about confusion!) deepens the writing. It's moving to read.
warm wishes, d.i.
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