Random Prose
Random stuff that i wrote while i was at Uzma’s apartment and she stuck on her wall so now that i’m sitting at her desk i shall reclaim my words
A good person is an emotion. elusive, uncertain, but leaves a sense of beauty in his interactions with life. it is in his lack that those who stay behind realize his virtue. the sense that something was perhaps gained, yet lost from his existence and departure.
(wrote that in my religion/ethics class when my professor asked for the definition of a good person.)
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time this ego centric construct we’ve structured around ourselves to keep our lives under control. ticktockticktockticktockticktock and the digitals have even stolen our seconds away. our own worst enemy? no wonder time is always against us. we’ve created it to ground and orient and ensnare ourselves into this trap
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- Dreams
: are snares, traps, catch 22’s. you get delusional in the fog, start seeing things that don’t even exist in your imagination – hopes? present absences and future presents, really, making up lost time by losing yourself in the to be or not. to be; that is indeed the question. ask me none, i have a tendency to lie.
(both of those inspired by readings from Kierkegaard’s Either/Or)