Don’t read this.

What if I was meant to write. To shape words to paper, to take hold the language I knew and shake its bits out. Lay them for all to see. What if, we have things we are meant to do. A purpose. That would be nice, and quant. I mean obviously we have a purpose. That of experiencing, to feel and see and do and use time and just sensation the shit out of the universe. Like that of a synapse. That is what I believe. That we are here for the sake of feeling. Like a taste-bud of the universe. I see our selves as a vapor, or cloud, the totality of humanity, ya know, not just a single person, though that could be done too. This cloud, vapor, is emotions, sensations, observations, a thing absorbing.

There are days, where I weep at the gratefulness I feel for seeing the preciousness of life. My life, how quickly it goes. In a blink, I’ll be there. But in a blink, I’ll be here. I suppose, the only way to extend our time, to truly appreciate as much of it as we can- which is the very heart of every single fucking person- is to experience each moment more.
What if I was to spend my life focused on health, only to fly by the growth of my child.
I did this, only with worry. Fears, the things I was afraid to do. I wasted, so much of my life, only because I wasn’t aware of what I had, what I was really here for. Which is of course to fucking live!
But more to break into the infinity of a moment. To tear away the veil I’ve always held where there was always another day another chance…another fucking nothing. There was always only that where I was. That’s all there ever will be.
Jim Rohn used to say there is major time, and minor time. For a long time I could see and understand the differences, then one day. It dawned on me.
IT’s ALL major time.
It’s it, the time. The only time I have, every waking second. What I am I to do with it. How do I choose to spend it?
And the funny thing about time, is you never know how it’s going to pass, one moment is both forever and fleeting. I strive each day, to try to remember in every moment to be there, to see and feel the present. The past and future are not mine. Those are for the passed, and the coming. It is now, this moment that is mine. It is most precious.
Never again, will it come to pass. Never again will I be able to breathe this breath.
I must live. I must fly across this life. What good does it do for me to plod along to my death. The thing that has always loomed ahead, so dark, dreary, dreadful. NO!
I would leap into these jaws, the maw of death. Where once I couldn’t bear to glance. I will dissipate with a gaze resolute. I live, I die. Between. That MOMENT. Is….mine.
I think that is it. The key to happiness, is knowing you’re going to die. Then doing everything you can do to do the things you dream of. The things you envision yourself doing.
That’s the heart of everyone, everything. We know we are going to die. And fear it. Shun it, few accept it early. Only when it’s raging on our doorstep do we give it attention. Understandably, surely some have lost all hope, many times over. But then, to move beyond that…resistance. That fearsome moment in the future.
To live presently, you must move beyond a moment in the future.
Is there any difference, in LIVING present? There is the act of BEING present.

#writerofage

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