Existential nausea

The mundanity of this moment taste metallic.
The grey treetops stripped naked by the cold stretch out like scarecrows, like swaying cemeteries. The wind circling around them seems bereft and in disbelief as if in denial, like a mother clinging on to her child who just breathed his last, rocking back and forth with him in her embrace.

The scariest part of life is that life is independent of will. Spring doesn’t rush to protect nature from the cold because the cold is also nature… Ironically, for spring to interrupt the shedding of life would be to interrupt life itself. So I guess in that regard death is creation. Life wouldn’t be life without unexpected endings.

Expectations are human creations. It rings hollow and shallow because every time it approaches the depths it’s yanked back by the leash of control.

Respond to Existential nausea

Fire away!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s