i have been thinking a lot about the words in my head. the moments that strike me and the words that I lose-- the words I have lost, the meaning that I have allowed to slip away. Its almost as though i have left that part of me-- the part of me committed to communicating and expressing the meaning of my moments-- died. It left that work to others.
the unexamined life is a meaningless one.
so the question that has to guide me now-- how is this moment expressing the meaning of this life that i have? the significance of this small travel, that is in its essence absolutely meaningless and enormously important all at once.
ectomorphing endomorphs burn paper for warmth in asylum beds while wondering where their mothers are no one to help you now the white walls scream not like there ever was
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