philanTH-EIST-ropist

The urge to be in control, The fear to be in submission: Subjecting your own self to harm; Knowingly, approvingly, directing self to pain: For it is this feeling - A feeling emerging after an age, Approvingly, knowingly, you desire to feel How it feels to feel, And then it builds: The burden, too heavy now To bear You surrender - Knowingly, approvingly, surrender to their urge, The pain doesn't cessate, Nay, it amplifies with every surrender - Approvingly, knowingly, you cease to be!

Snow, white and faded, was not as melancholic as the cold. At -6 degrees Fahrenheit, even Wharf street was put to silence, just past sunset, by twenty two inches of snow the blizzard had dispersed all over Portland. The promising sun I witnessed earlier this day; shining radiantly over the Siberian Elms of Eastern Promenade, was taken over pugnaciously by Nimbostratus clouds. This snow storm had forced me to seek refuge at Sweetgrass winery. Three divine shots of "Mark of the Maple" later, I felt warm enough to face the wind chill. Tantalizing aroma of parmesan, rosemary and basil led me to its origin at Central Provisions. After digging into an entree of "Seared Casco-Bay Scallops", I reluctantly dragged myself to the exit. Repulsed by the sombre chill of Wharf Street I made my exit through the other door. Fore street; basking earlier under blue and red twinkle lights, was tumult now: the traffic lights swung about and ghastly wind added to the gloom. As I

I am not afraid. I am a soldier. My life is defined by the conquests I make. I am a Roman! Greater grounds would mean greater employment for my people, an enriched living my family deserves. But no, I am not at war for capital. I hold my sword for conceit. Yet, what is this fear that encapsulates me this day? Am I afraid of being outnumbered? Would there actually be an army of 300,000 Gallic soldiers as speculated? No, I fear them not. I would return as a noble to my people. I fight for prestige, I fight for pride, I fight for Rome … I fight for Caesar! We are few but we are strong. We are a trained 60,000 with an astute commander. Why can I not erase the thought of the debt my leader got buried under? Would it really be true that the office of Consul for my chief brought us today to fight the undefeated? Have mercy on me O Mars! I am not feeble like the Arvernia. Tomorrow’s sun shall see me fight. I would not bring shame to the land of Romulus. We shall feast and rejoice once the la

"How many years has it been?" "Almost twenty five" "And how long has it been that we spooned?" "Twenty three ... long years" "Why did you marry me?" "It was a difficult multiple choice question, I had to choose the most appropriate option. Hence, you" "Regrets?" "I ruined your life" "Why would you think that?" "Do you love me?" "I adore the way you garnish a breakfast platter for me and the kids every morning, and force us to eat against our will" "Do you love me?" "I feel affection for your manicured fingers that fold my laundry to perfection, without me asking, and tantalize me with a new scent in them every other week" "Do you love me?" "I cherish the drops of heaven that roll down your cheek when I prepare you for my approaching death" "I ruined your life" &qu

Who reflects in the mirror when you stand in front of it? A dentist! Not worthy of that title, as we see you not practicing with any dexterity. An artist perhaps! When was the last time you painted a piece that was worth so much so as glancing at? A writer then! Dr. Gerald, you fail to articulate in convincing words a heartfelt emotion in front of your own family, how likely are you to compose an original work worth reading by the multitude. And yet, such superego! If the Providence makes a lowlife like your narcissistic unsuccessful self sit face to face with a blue stocking, take that as an opportunity never to waste. The probability of that happening is close to zero. So very close, you believed it was zero. Perhaps that is the reason why you wasted this one opportunity that was staring you right in the face a week back. A week back, really! And now you decide to share the story. It never occurred to you - while you rambled on day after another about all the cuisines you stuff