16 November, 2008
A man lies in his bed in a room with no door, He waits hoping for a presence, something, anything, to enter. After spending half his life searching, he still felt as blank as the ceiling at which he stared, he is alive, but feels absolutely nothing.
So is he?
When he was six he believed that the moon over head followed him, By nine he had deciphered the allusion, trading magic for fact, no trade backs. So this is what it's like to be an adult, if he only knew now what he knew then.
Lying sideways atop crumpled sheets with no covers, he decides to dream... dream up a new self for himself.
Pearl Jam, 'Im Open'
06 November, 2008
02 November, 2008
Over the years, I have come to believe that its simpler to love people who are a figment of yr imagination. The real troubles in your life begin when you actually start liking a real person, with all of their humanly imperfections, cultural and social differences; people who aren't really tall, dark & handsome, or flattering in their ways, but it seems that they make you feel at home. So what do you do when you realize that all of 'us' aren't Cinderellas, and most of 'them' aren't Prince Charmings?
I guess that in true fiction, the reality of love comes from embracing the differences and finding a common ground of acceptance. Its only then that you can choose to follow the journey of being someone far far better than the person you were when you were alone, and the person he becomes when he is with you.
This is why it is not simple. Its hard for a reason. The reason is simple :)... Its the reward of actually making a real person love you for who you are and to love him for who he is. Which is why knowing Joe the Plumber as a real person would be far more rewarding than being in love with Popeye or Chandler Bing.
Tailored from an old comment on I Love Him.