Sometimes, we say the least when we have the most to say. We walk around with heads full of ideas, chests full of emotion, hearts full of longing. We're screaming with our mouths shut.
This is why I write.
It's time to wrangle up some new readers, I guess. Time to find another audience to mystify, bore and disappoint, or perhaps it's time to close these velvety curtains and stop all of this, before it gets out of hand.
But I can't help myself.
Even as I type now, I know I'm dumping my thoughts into a digital wasteland. What is more vast, the internet or the universe? Which is more eternal? These words, these very words, will burn pixels in oblivion long after I'm dead and gone. If I went to sleep now and never woke up again, these words would still be here in the morning, and on the morning after that and after that.
Even when my body turns to mud and worms suck that mud off of my bones, you could still find this old writing here, always more alive than I am. It won't matter who I loved, because we all love. It won't matter who I lost in my life, because we all lose. It won't matter if I was right or if I was wrong, because we're all human. It only can matter that I stopped sometimes to write it down.
So, this is for you, my digital paleontologist. I hope you're smiling now, because this forgotten man can see you and talk to you. I lived. I wrote. I faded away. But now here we are, in case you forgot.
