Rambling Flow Of Nothingness
Maybe I’m writing because I feel like I need to prove my productivity. Maybe I’m writing because it’s an outlet for this anxiety or maybe I’m writing a thing, just because I need to write something.
To be completely honest I’m writing this but also not even really writing at all. I’m speaking, and dictation is hearing all that I talk. Little characters pop into place and then they’re there… There on my screen, appear the words in which I share. So I’m actually speaking and not writing, watching the words materialising in front of my eyes. I’ve seen it before, but still find it beguiling.
So maybe, I am even lying by saying that these words in which I am writing down, are written. Or does it not matter that I am speaking, does it only matter that the words in which I am thinking, now exist outside my head and can now be seen as writing. (Or typing if we’re being pedantic)
Forgive me. If you are reading this. Forgive me for my rambling flow of nothingness. A collection of the irrelevance that is me. The highlighting factor that I am indeed a mess. That is in a constant flux of evolving and diminishing. This is mostly what is within my mind especially when alone, during late times like 11.09. So does that mean that at these times, I am ultimately irrelevant. Maybe. That’s for me to know and you to decide. Though really, I should not give you that right.
Maybe this is all just to free some space, in the cluttered corners of my mind. “Cluttered corners of my mind.” I swear I’ve used that phrase before in a poem one time, but who cares, it’s my words and I can repeat them or not much as I like. I may not even share these words. All these words in which I write.
But maybe I will. And maybe I have. If you’re reading this now, then clearly I do.
Words exist inside your mind, every single thought that twist and turn and combine. You can’t see the letters, but they are perfectly formed, in sentences, in sounds, somewhere in the space inside your brain. You don’t know where they live, you can’t even picture where they sit and hide inside your mind but you can hear them all the time.
You know I’d like to find peace of mind hoping that one day, they in freeze time. Hoping that the speech will start to stutter and stammer and flutter. Until they stop altogether. But then what would you hear inside your head, if the hum and drum was to un-become. What then would you hear in between your ears, if there was no chatter. But by that point, would it even matter.