numbers
Today I learned that everything is in fact illuminated, but it takes time for some things to obtain a visible glow, as it takes time for one to develop tolerance for its brightness and the standard of which things obey a limit to brightness. And really, there are no limits, just boring ideas. And really, there are no boring ideas, just repeated ideas. And really, there are no repeated ideas, just shared thoughts; and shared thoughts are our means of compromise and cooperation.
We do not understand each other. Nobody does. We all live only to impress ourselves and perform for how we think it will please us. Things that are good and things that are bad are just things with bland adjectives assigned to them, and we waste time trying to measure the right adjectives for what we do, when we could be doing so much more.
Yet everyone is different and everyone is a gypsy in their own life. We think we're searching when really we're just attempting to satisfy a void. When something is found we're not actually fulfilled nor are we content, as we pursue impossibility. Like infinity we grow with time until time doesn't exist and speeds are immeasurable and words cannot be pronounced or comprehended any more than they can be invented.
All we need is a night sky and an imaginary friend residing somewhere behind it to intimidate us and prevent us from finding what is impossible. The only burdensome wall between determination and possibility is imagination. When at the same time, imagination is what makes impossible things reality.
And when I fall asleep, I don't have to worry about any of it because I never truly worry anyway. I am not content, and I am not sad. I am learning how to build myself around whatever tries to wreck me.
Like boats we paddle blindly on waves that refuse to be malleable to our oars, and we are never really achieving anything except what we think is direction.
We do not understand each other. Nobody does. We all live only to impress ourselves and perform for how we think it will please us. Things that are good and things that are bad are just things with bland adjectives assigned to them, and we waste time trying to measure the right adjectives for what we do, when we could be doing so much more.
Yet everyone is different and everyone is a gypsy in their own life. We think we're searching when really we're just attempting to satisfy a void. When something is found we're not actually fulfilled nor are we content, as we pursue impossibility. Like infinity we grow with time until time doesn't exist and speeds are immeasurable and words cannot be pronounced or comprehended any more than they can be invented.
All we need is a night sky and an imaginary friend residing somewhere behind it to intimidate us and prevent us from finding what is impossible. The only burdensome wall between determination and possibility is imagination. When at the same time, imagination is what makes impossible things reality.
And when I fall asleep, I don't have to worry about any of it because I never truly worry anyway. I am not content, and I am not sad. I am learning how to build myself around whatever tries to wreck me.
Like boats we paddle blindly on waves that refuse to be malleable to our oars, and we are never really achieving anything except what we think is direction.