The Unabridged Journals of Karissa Gupta

  I loved you as Icarus loved the sun. I read this quote on my Pinterest board a few months back, and while it may have left the landscape of my phone’s screen, it left an indelible inscription within the jumble that I call my mind. Reading this quote at first glance implies the archetype of the clichéd metaphor of Icarus, a man whose growing thirst for glory brought him down, his greed being mightier than the endurance of his wings. But the classicalism that controls my mind made my imagination rake over these words countless times, ultimately metamorphosing me into Icarus, seeing traces of my soul in a phrase coined to capture his ironic fall from the skies.  I loved you like Icarus loved the sun.  Knowing that you would eventually be my unraveling, I still chose to seek momentary solace by basking in your warmth. Self-destructive? Or maybe just clinically insane. Or maybe the Greeks were right when they said that beauty is terror; whatever we call beautiful, we...