(This too is something I wrote sometime in 2014 and I would say here you can find the seeds of what was to transpire)
Isn't it crazy enough to be alive. To be surrounded by people and not knowing what they are actually like. Not knowing what they have seen and what they see. To know that you have the liberty to interpret my words as you want. Still further to understand that it is not you who matters but me who went on writing. Writing to tell the elements that I wrote and you read. Oh to revel in the power that is given to me and you. To know that nothing is presupposed to be like anything and everything and everyone can be unique, unimagined. That there need not be any standards. But the numbers haunt me. The popular narratives frighten me. That everything has a beginning and an end is falsehood. For I never began and will never stop is truth. That is not life which ends. Flowing water is more lively and a sleeping man more lively than one who succumbs to pressure to do something. To wish to make my body explode like an atomic reaction gone bad just to be interesting.
If life is suffereing than death is blessing is an argument dear enough. To wait for the death to attain salvation is the teaching of many.
Writing to achieve what. To know that suicide exists, rape exists and unproductivity exists as if illness, death and unfreedom were not the reasons enough to be sad.
Isn't it crazy enough to be alive. To be surrounded by people and not knowing what they are actually like. Not knowing what they have seen and what they see. To know that you have the liberty to interpret my words as you want. Still further to understand that it is not you who matters but me who went on writing. Writing to tell the elements that I wrote and you read. Oh to revel in the power that is given to me and you. To know that nothing is presupposed to be like anything and everything and everyone can be unique, unimagined. That there need not be any standards. But the numbers haunt me. The popular narratives frighten me. That everything has a beginning and an end is falsehood. For I never began and will never stop is truth. That is not life which ends. Flowing water is more lively and a sleeping man more lively than one who succumbs to pressure to do something. To wish to make my body explode like an atomic reaction gone bad just to be interesting.
If life is suffereing than death is blessing is an argument dear enough. To wait for the death to attain salvation is the teaching of many.
Writing to achieve what. To know that suicide exists, rape exists and unproductivity exists as if illness, death and unfreedom were not the reasons enough to be sad.
No comments:
Post a Comment