my naked face was chilled by realisation and the cool breeze of a day welcoming night. beneath me the hard heavy tarmac that i stand on. above me a starless sky. it was so vast so grand without any action in itself to achieve such greatness. it subdued the recent worries of not being able to amount to something enough, something great. so here i stand and here i understand that i am a speck who will remain a speck - of which there is no shame. any achievement when zoomed in on will forever be dwarfed by the innate greatness of the sky. nothing can be done to change that, for i was never created to be as great as the sky. my existence is just for that, existence itself. i am here to be (in good will) and to submit.
a friend showed me a piece he thought i might have an interest in (which i did). about a man who left it all at twenty to be on his own.
”I did examine myself,” he said. “Solitude did increase my perception. But here’s the tricky thing—when I applied my increased perception to myself, I lost my identity. With no audience, no one to perform for, I was just there. There was no need to define myself; I became irrelevant. The moon was the minute hand, the seasons the hour hand. I didn’t even have a name. I never felt lonely. To put it romantically: I was completely free.”
people i dont trust: people who get scared bout dirt on their white shoes white shirts white everything. u not heard of patina? u not heard that nothing is forever?