Sometimes (she lies… All of the *conscious* time) I think about how kind it would be to live within the confines of a book, between the untamed yet redeeming stretches of prose before interpretation. Quite literally, amongst the pages as ink rests on paper, what if we could too? And how tender such an existence would be…
Unfortunately - or is it? - we belong to a physical realm of another sort. Our embodiment of emotion and thought so personal and attached, ever defining… Unlike those words in those books which maintain independence from emotional struggle & detrimental ties. But I suppose, per existence, there are many a misfortune to be experienced and attachment as a common practice is very much one of ours. To own or disown? To identify and express or reject? What does it matter though, we live nonetheless and thankful, we can be.

When you’re truly ready to drop everything for the best… You will. It stops being about how much you will things to come to you, through belief and hope, and what you have naturally shed determining what you gain but instead about how willing you are to be proactive & go and get what you think you deserve. Because once you’re willing you will act and as you act correctly you will gain. Energy cycles. Good practice.

Strange conversation. Along the lines of: “So if you go on holiday by your self who will take pictures of you with the things that you see?”
Lol?
Why would that even cross my mind. I want to travel and see the world, not because I want to be seen as a part of it… I already am by nature and a photo or other people’s knowledge of that doesn’t certify that fact… But because I want to experience what it actually is, in its different elements as individual creations. The world will last longer than me and stretches to depths I could never even measure, other than being able to label it infinite, but in life & existence, “being & time”, I mean something & nothing in the grand scheme of things but most importantly I do not & never will mean absolutely everything in this universe so to only be able to relate to things when I’m in the picture is to pretend that I give, through my individual being, every single thing on earth meaning, but I don’t. All things have their own essence, their own value, their own reasons for being, yes, but they’re all part of a functioning whole, which functions not because each part pretends it’s crucial to the whole, but because each part sees itself as crucial to fulfilling its own individual role. I dunno why people can’t observe the beauty of things without wanting to make it relate back to their own *immediate* existence.