An excerpt from my novel I’m writing: A Strangers Narrative.
. You never really realize how big the World can be until you realize how small you are. You don’t matter. You are nothing. You are less than nothing. You don’t matter. You get caught up in everything that goes on inside your own life, but you don’t matter. You only matter if you take yourself and make something of yourself. Make something of yourself. You don’t matter, but your mind matters. Your heart matters. Your soul matters. Your voice matters.
. Kathrine Ann Porter once wrote, “There seems to be a kind of order in the universe. In the movement of the stars and the orbit of the earth and the changing of the seas. But human life is almost pure chaos. everyone takes a stance, asserts his own thoughts and feelings. Mistaking the motives of others, and his own.” I read that in a book somewhere. How can one of us hold so much power to feel so many different emotions. Sad. Happy. Lonely. Depressed. Excited. We all feel things that are beyond us, beyond Earth. Feelings that we can not even begin to grasp. The emensity of our selves is beyond reason. We feel so empty yet so full. Therefore it is easier to say we are nothing then to try and describe what we are. We are the human race. Capable of living and dying and loving and killing; capable of opening our minds to uncharted territory and capable of sustaining life 400 feet under the ocean surface; capable of writing multi-part novels and creating technology that changes a lifetime of other creations. We can’t put labels on people or our lives. We have no flippin clue what the motives of others are or what they are going to accomplish one day. Everyone is nothing. We are all nothing. Of course of Day. 1,901 I had no clue to what I just wrote. But it seemed like an appropriate day to write it.