the history of Melancholy

http://ed.ted.com/lessons/a-brief-history-of-melancholy-courtney-stephens

I measure every grief I meet,
with narrow-probing eyes,
I wonder if it weighs like mine,
Or has an easier size.
~Emily Dickinson~

The Paris Wife by The Bookshop Band

Call me the queen of melancholy, but this song for me is by far the saddest song I have ever encountered. 

The Paris Wife by The Bookshop Band

inspired by the book "The Paris Wife" by Paula McLain

We fell in love and married

Moved to Paris

You’d be a writer and I’d be your ever lasting love.

Accordions and whores

Were to be our background score

I’d cut my hair and you’d grow yours.

We’d be the same guy you’d say

Just like the same guy you’d say

But then each day you’d disappear

Into your fierce world of words.

My Ernest and me, a young Miss Hemingway

My Ernest and me, a young Miss Hemingway

Red headed, wedded, waiting, steady and straight

You are the best parts of me he’d say.

And he was like an island where

The weather always changed

And I am a small boat tethered to his fate.

But I made the rope and tied a knot around the stake

And I threw the anchor overboard on our wedding day.

You’d be a writer and I’d be your ever lasting love x4

But as you grew, you grew away

And as you grew, you grew away

And the words were the waves

That wore against the stake

That I’d placed.

And by the end I was loosening the knot

I’d let my boat slip aside

Into still waters away from your tide

That continued to roll across the sea

I’d played my part

And so had she.

I wish I can claim myself to be a feminist, but I'm too much of a pessimist to see we (women) be able to grasp a masculinist dream as a "person". I don't even wanna start babbling about the concept of "the other" or  something like that. But hell, I too dream of being my own person. Not like how Woolf trying to get a room of her own, or how Kahlo struggling with the neglect of her s.o. But to be yourself fully. Without having to worry about how men should questioning your feminine value. Decadence? Perhaps I am a decadent one...