Something of Myself

Konark ;)

I know I said this one would be on Gandhi but I am not putting anything down on paper until I
have read "My Experiments with Truth."

Instead, this one is about feeling physical pain, and thinking about death. Yes, oft repeated, but never exhausted topic of our lives.

Actually, no, I just changed my mind.

I don't want to say anything. It's futile anyways. Who is going to read my shit? Why should they? Why should I write? Why DO I write??

I think I need a break from life. I need to get out of this world - somewhere where there is nothing except blue skies and starry nights and nothing but the blazing sun, scorching, burning and feasting on my skin.

I like the sun. I like the way I can't look at it - doesn't ever stop me from trying it. I like his majesty, his singularity, his omnipresence, his rage, passion...the hope he brings, the fear he instills, and the effect he has on the whole wild world.

I want to go near him. I want to stand close and see him right in the eye. I want to touch him. Of course, I want to die - but it will be a wonderful death, a wonderful way to end this morbid life. :)