Igalt poolt tuleb killukesi, mida ei raatsi ainult endale jätta.
Nüüd siis Dear Coquette "On The Hunger"
kus temalt elulusti (tagasi saamise) kohta küsitakse ja ta muu hulgas räägib:
It’s not all that unpleasant. It’s not much of anything really, a sort of constant state of anhedonia. Nothing tastes. Nothing touches. Words come out of me, but I don’t recognize them. I’m just here, making a bunch of gestures and signs, interacting with a world I can’t feel.
It’s okay, though. I’ve done this many times. I’m comfortable with the ebb and flow of my emotional well-being. It’s a delicate sine wave, the amplitude and frequency of which I’ve learned to observe from a distance without needing to control it in the moment.
I have enough perspective to recognize the balance. I know better than to course correct with chemicals or consumerism. I don’t wanna fuck up my curve, because I know the hunger comes back.
Oo, kui hästi ma sellega suhestun - eriti selle osaga, mille ma 'paksuks' tegin.
Huvitav on lugeda, millise külma tasakaalukusega ta räägib sellest, et saab elujanu kindlasti tagasi, alati on saanud.Mina ütlen ka endale Neil Aegadel, et kuna see on alati mööda läinud, siis võib puhtalt statistikale tuginedes loota, et läheb ka seekord - aga ma ei usu seda mitte kunagi... :D
Pigem siis nagu Virginia Woolf:
Dearest,
I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time.
Aga praegu on kõõõõõik okidoki, nii et...
:)
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