Friday, November 5, 2010

The Messy Friday

The Friday.
Lack of sleep.
Spinning mind messes up the focus.
A mess of obsessions.
A mess of creativity.
A mess of a strong will.
Divided.

I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I could not make up my mind which of the figs tree I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant, loosing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet”

Page 77 The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

4 comments:

  1. I love your poetic way of expressing yourself. A true artist.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Please don't be sad. There's more of your life to come.

    ReplyDelete