Seriously, there are so many thoughts rushing through my head right now. There are so many doubts, so many expectations, so many things humans have to think about nowadays. But what does it matter, actually? If we look at earth from space, there is basically no sign of of our existence. We are nothing, actually. Bodiless souls partly examining the giant "outside". I like calling it "the outside". Because basically, it is. It is the outside of our tiny world... But somehow, it's also the inside of something. Something humans aren't really conscious of yet. But it doesn't matter what we know. The truth is the truth and will always stay the truth, no matter if there is a civilization of microscopic things with a healthy self-esteem calling themselves humans who doesn't know about it. The truth is just like it is, it doesn't care about anything. It's not changeable somehow, because if you change the truth, it is still the truth - just in a different way or addressing a different time. Also after it has changed, for that past era of time it is still true, because nothing can be made unhappened. Events can be crossed out, but not erased - thy will always leave their mark.
But... Like seriously, why am I writing this? Nobody could somehow like to read the strange and confused things going on in my head. This is just... Strange.
Strange.
YOU ARE READING
Products of the Everything
Non-fictieWhat is life? Why is everything as it is? These are the questions I will answer in this b.... No! Stop it, strange self! Like seriously, I also don't have any answer to those questions. This book is basically just going to be a diary of the strange...
