The “SHE”i n the City || A Made-up Observation Part I
A heart-warming moment I saw in Swanston Library inspired me to write this. The “she” is the voice here:
Being woken up by an unpleasant dream at noon, I felt a sudden dizziness before I regain my conscious. What I dreamt of, I cannot remember, but it doesn’t matter for I usually never did remember them. The weather is a bit strange. Sunshine with dark, low clouds as if it’s going to rain, yet the bright, almost blazing, yellow light casted on the bed disagrees with the facade of sorrow the cloud has put on, indicating an optimistic outlook for the day. It doesn’t matter if it will rain or not. I will like any weather despite everything. The ones who constantly expresses their strong dislike towards rainy days, I always thought, are someone who don’t love life itself. Rain is something the nature has given us as a gift—a part of life. How can I not love it? I love the sunny days which makes me feel happy, just like how I love the rainy days that may perfectly either romanticize the day or render the atmosphere depressing.
I regret my decision to stay up till 5 yesterday for I feel so unfocused. It was because of one of my colleague’s promotion party. I actually left early, but I was excited and spent 4 hours at home trying to write my ideas down for the next play. It still seems a mystery to me why I ended up in a career in writing. I never wanted to and I never loved or was good at it in schools during my adolescence. I used to have so many dreams for music, or design, but I ended up here. I suppose it’s destiny. Sometimes you just cannot win it.
The apartment is so empty today! Some said that how you live is the projection of your inner life. I bet it makes some sense. The environment around us shapes us; and if you really are not what you are living, you would have altered it on your own will. (On that account, I suppose it’s the number of books I’ve read leads me to authorship.) So the heart is empty, too. I thought about getting a flatmate, but there isn’t a suitable one yet. Sometimes I think we are afraid of solitude not simply because we cannot stand it. Human is a solitary species. There isn’t one species on Earth can do what man can do; there isn’t one in any other planet in the solar system; there even isn’t one in the Milky Way or the entire universe, yet (to be found). We are anxious to think that out of such an immense spacetime, we are the only ones, like the dust in the corner—too tiny, too helpless. I suppose that’s another way to define solitude.
I cannot stop myself from fantasying about abstract definitions. I should stop. But the apartment is too empty to bear! Let me post a flat share information online.
I should go for a walk.
Pink Martini – “My Solitude”
