Dear Diary, I’ve become a recluse in my own home as dark days and dark nights are rolling by, their distinction and count long lost. Sure, I’m mostly busy with scholarly stuff but there’s more to this inertia. I usually feel sad during the festive season and, some would say, rightfully so. In this globalized, interconnected world with its non-existent borders and technology that reaches above and beyond, I feel hopelessly lonely and down. Being away from family and loved ones really, truly and utterly sucks.
The lights are scarce outside my windows, the whole street is at a standstill, asleep when it’s not even 9 p.m. Has our wretched world become too much for everyone to look at, so most choose to see dreams instead? Or has everyone simply left to enjoy their holidays elsewhere? I tend to hope it is the latter.
And is it just me or the government decided to spend less on fairy lights this year? All the same, the darkness is unbearable; it is swallowing me up from within and penetrating all the matter around me. Turbulent times, violent age, and a total eclipse of the heart.
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There’s so much beauty in the world, I know it for a fact. I’ve seen a great share of it, tasted its sweetness on my tongue, felt my heart flutter at its delicate touch. As peculiar as it is, much of it is hidden in the dark, between calamities and sorrows and fears. Its fleeting, graceful presence hurts and heals the most; a wonderful catharsis for the soul.
Yet, as I’m staring into the blackness, I see nothing, sense nothing. So it begins to rain, then – snow. Even nature is confused, derailed off its usual course. Beautiful things are yet to be born of the chaos residing here today; though it’s still too early to say. In our lifetimes, all we can do is make predictions, the rest is not up to us. We are nothing but passengers on the train of life, and all we do is rush by while time stands completely still.
Saltwater Heart 