As I write on this page, the ink from my pen flows onto the paper, created by living trees, breathing the air of the planet, in a universe of infinite systems and creatures and people and emotions and colours and landscapes and life. The ink penetrates the paper to stay there forever and ever, until this page disintegrates and becomes specks of dust in the universe that I talked about prior.
And maybe not written with a pen, but with a pencil, whose anatomy is completely different, but the cycle is the same. One day my words will disappear and my thoughts will no longer exist and I'll just be another face that passed by in this world of birth and death.
But for now I'll just sit here, writing and forming letters of a language with the goal to communicate between souls. All of this will be useless in a few minutes, in time, an idea created by humankind to make us think that we're passing time, whether it be useful or not.
So now I'll change the format because nothing is stopping me, except maybe myself, but that doesn't matter.
In.
Out.
Those are my breaths, keeping me alive, thought I don't know the point, I don't understand why; one day my heart will stop beating.
Maybe today.
Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe in years.
Yet I'll repeat myself and say that it doesn't matter,
so I'll just write on this page.
Hey world :) I originally wrote this in pencil, just to let you know. It was during the worst maths class ever, and I was bored. Also, I ran out of paper, so the last phrase was on an other page, hence its meaning (so I'll just write on this page). Tell me what you think, talk to you soon <3
