Girl With The Curls |
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Observations of a Quixotic Femme Noire
__One Percent - 1%__
Warrior-woman; a Valkyrie. I'll always be yours. Always...and never. 
Are You HOT or NOT?  
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Thursday, January 13, 2005
I feel so drained.
Last night as I was lying in bed. I was compelled to get up and just write. I was glad to do it. Thinking of putting it here, but I think what I wrote afterward gives me pause: Sitting here writing this, I'm shaking. So many emotions and memories that inundate me with a painful intensity. I would never wish those days gone or different. I wanted to make sure that I didn't forget how I felt. I couldn't believe that I was shaking! Anyways, with that on my mind, I just haven't thought about much else. Even now, I have butterflies. I think I need to process this a little more. Or turn it over to my alter-ego... "...the question suddenly occurred to him: "What if my whole life has been wrong?" It occurred to him that what had appeared perfectly impossible before, namely that he had not spent his life as he should have done, might after all be true. It occurred to him that his scarcely perceptible attempts to struggle against what was considered good by the most highly placed people, those scarcely noticeable impulses which he had immediately suppressed, might have been the real thing, and all the rest false. And his professional duties and the whole arrangement of his life and of his family, and all his social and official interests, might all have been false. He tried to defend all those things to himself and suddenly felt the weakness of what he was defending. There was nothing to defend. "But if that is so," he said to himself, "and I am leaving this life with the consciousness that I have lost all that was given me and it is impossible to rectify it — what then?" He lay on his back and began to pass his life in review in quite a new way. In the morning when he saw first his footman, then his wife, then his daughter, and then the doctor, their every word and movement confirmed to him the awful truth that had been revealed to him during the night. In them he saw himself — all that for which he had lived — and saw clearly that it was not real at all, but a terrible and huge deception which had hidden both life and death. " - The Death of Ivan Ilyich; Leo Tolstoy Director of Client Services holla@me
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