#existential longing

[luvinaeverdene]

The Virgin Suicides (1999) Directed by Sofia Coppola

[celtic-poetry]

sometimes it feels like I’m gonna run out of time

for what? I’m not sure

to do the things I need to do

perhaps perhaps not

still I need the fixes to go on to go around

some days I don’t feel anything nothing is amiss

while other days I ache for something

I do not know I have never known

just knowing it’s missing somehow

a craving a desire eating me from inside

makes itself known clawing spreading devouring

and I don’t know how to feed it to make it go away

and it just drowns me in ache in despair in a hole

I can’t get free I can’t let go I’m stuck

I’m pinned to the surface

like one of them butterflies

waiting for the ache to consume me whole

-

truthfully it’s damn great that this despair

this darkness this ache isn’t present all the time

that it just comes around some days

otherwise I don’t know

how I would have the strength

to smile like I do

[garden-secret-ao3writer]

I’m not actually using this snippet anywhere in my fic, but I couldn’t bring myself to just delete it. So here it is:

To the cosmos, she is nothing more than a fragment. But to her, the cosmos is everything she is. The cosmos has no name, no feelings, no tangible form. Unlike her, it is infinite and many-sided, untouchable and unkillable. She only knows that she once existed — maybe in that star, maybe in that nebula. She knows it must have been warm, because warmth is what she always longs for. But the cosmos is cold, and it cannot hold warmth. She is made of cosmos, and because of that, she is cold too. Reaching for warmth, for life, for feelings and memory is useless — she must be cosmos, and the cosmos must be her. And yet, the cosmos has no rules. Which means neither does she. So again she craves warmth, diving into that desire so deeply that maybe — just maybe — the cosmos, for the first time, becomes a little smaller with her in it. Maybe, in that second, she will cease to be cosmos and become herself. The moment Allura realized she truly existed, she wanted to break down and cry.

[thescholarlystrumpet]

i hate those moments of existential longing.... like, my whole soul is Aching for Something. but what??

[celtic-poetry]

maybe you weren’t for me after all but know this , at one instance I wish you had been just that one day I’ll need someone someone who actually will stay stay behind with me someone who’ll find it worthwhile worthwhile to actually be someone someone to me and staying by my side

@celtic-poetry, it’s hard to find ones other half

[goonyourown]

March has made a skeptic of me again. Skeptic to all my desires and as to how can one move forward provided they are surrounded by this intangible emptiness. How does one fight it ? Is one supposed to fight it ? How and when does this fight end ? What is the correct substance that should fill the emptiness? What should I feed it apart from my time ? Why am I feeling this empty ? I have never felt this lonely... what is causing this ? Is it the fact that I have shared my heart with other people and now I am unable to find anything worth within my own self to share it with myself ? Have I been discovered a little too much... that I do not find my own self amusing anymore?

I guess it's the season of consumption for I am unable to articulate most of my deepest concerns. I guess this is the season where people would misunderstand me the most for my thoughts would deceive me into acting and we all know where acting leads us.

April is just a week away and my restlessness is getting the better of me. I wish for a picnic uncer the spring sky where the blues, greens, yellows and pinks would cover me with hope that might actually last through the heat of summer, the decay of autumn and then finally the harsh numbness of winter.

I wish I could come across melodies that carries a newness and not just mere nostalgia. I am too nostalgic. I want to break through constraints of it. I wish I could discover better stuff to consume that would rejuvenate my spirit in ways that would make me believe in being alive again. That it is worth being alive and that my existence has a purpose of some sort, for if I am able to feel all this greatness then I must let people other than me feel it too, people who need it just like me.

I just jump from one thought to the other, hopefully waiting for the final word to land, I wait for it to make sense. I reread it like a poet who is trying to sync the words with the rhyming scheme. On days when it actually makes any sense, I sit with it for a while and forget it slowly, to let it exist on its own and on days when it doesn't make any sense I sit with it anyway and forget it for I know it will come back to me one way or the other... but forgetting it is essential... for it lets one to find other pathways that will serve other reasons to reach that point of sensibility. Eventually, it will dawn upon us that we are simply venturing along the same great ring road, a circle with no end, only the journey. 🪉🪽

​Happy Spring to those determined to bloom and to those of us just trying to survive the season without regret. ♡

[collapseofindustrialcivilization]

The

He swears there’s a ladder that climbs toward a rune, Its rungs disappear somewhere behind the moon. Each night he rehearses the steps in his mind, Escaping this maze where wildness is confined. He sketches new worlds with a dull piece of chalk, Where rivers sing softly and stones learn to talk. A palace of clouds where the lonely are kings, And laughter weighs lighter than all other things. The…

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[disheveledanddamned]

When my shift ends late at the laboratory, he comes driving for me. His journey gives me 15 more minutes than if I tried to catch the last bus home, so I give those 15 to the collection of all the things humanity has photographed up there. The screens give off a little heat and I press my fingers to it as I try to imagine the insensible burning that would happen if I was really there. It never really works but I think I’m getting better at it. Then I go downstairs and he is already waiting. I kiss him on the cheek for unlocking the passenger door and maybe if he’s not too tired we talk about family on the way home.