/ ALL DAY, EVERYDAY, NOTHING.
For the longest time, I thought being somebody meant my existence had to be succeeded by something measurable, but I am still tangled in the sticky web of life, still trudging through this labyrinth to understand who I am, ambling across the jagged topography of life, with clumsy fingers and a steady gaze. I am - breathing, feeling, living - I am my present and the looming shadow of the future - limitless and complete - and I think that is enough. I think I am enough.
Silence isn’t always clumsy,
Sometimes, it is more eloquent than language.
Silence isn’t always a remedy of wordless tongues,
Sometimes, it burns bridges to rubble until you’re standing with cindered bones and a parched throat.
I am surrounded by an ever-mounting stack of books I intend to read.