The light blinks on my clock and reads 2:30am. So here I sit another night is crawls by and the sandman has passed by my door. What better way to pass the time than to spew forth the idle thoughts of my mind.
I've been traveling, not by choice but by circumstances that seem out of my control. Currently I sit in a hotel in Boston on the other side of the world from my home. I have a busy day tomorrow, the stress upon my mind warding off any chance that rest will meet my eyes tonight. Unable to saturate my mind with thoughts that comfort myself to sleep. I stare.
Flicking through the idiot box doesn't help. A pass over of the internet sparks no interest so something new I now seek, something to help me express the pain and joy I feel in my heart yet am unable to muster words in real life. So to the digital age i turn, coughing forth into the abyss that is the internet for the belittle amusement of randoms whom i have no connection.
I have no clue why I'm writing, pushing forward my thoughts in such a open forum. 'Practice' i tell myself. But practice for what? Am i under the glimmer of hope that if I'm able to construct my words for strangers I'd be able to erect them in public to the people who matter?
The problem with my forwarding of thoughts into such an abyss seems to lie in the belief that no one cares. People don't listen anymore, don't feel the real emotion that pours forth on a daily basis. If they did maybe they too could be sweeped away into a vortex, unable to escape, unable to breath. Or really is it a belief of people that they are the center of the universe, but then by me pushing forward my thoughts aren't I falling into that trap. That I have something more important to say than the next person. No. Nothing that comes from my mouth or fingers is more important than the next person. Nothing i write hasn't already been written before in some form or language. Everything has been done, everything has been said. So why bother? Why take the time to put words to paper, fingers to keys, sounds to voice.
Expression. Everyone feels a deep need to express themselves. Even if the expression they wish to project is the same as the person next. We take great enjoyment in expression that's repeatable. Emotions and thoughts. It's what connects us to this world. Even the lack of expression is a form of expression. Born with a lack of imagination or possibly it's been ripped from my mind with the passage of time spent staring at pixels moving across a glass tube. So maybe the gift of words can be my expression. Only time will tell.
And so I welcome you brother or sister to my little corner of the internet. Where i plan to portray to you snippets of my life and experiences. I'll try and keep it as interesting as possible and include some short stories that I'll pour from my mind into this forum.
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