EST. 2017
Very rarely do I come in contact with people who are so passionate about their thoughts that their excitement oozes out with every breath they take and every word they speak. When I do meet such people, it's a blessing. It's a blessing, because I aspire to be such a person. It's a blessing, because such people show me, remind me that this life is full of wonder. I tend to forget this fact, so thankfully my "very rarely" hasn't been too rare. Thank You God that it's actually been quite often.
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What does one write in an essay? On a Google doc? On places where words are immortalised? When I write on paper, little notebooks bound by staples, I have freedom to erase and cross things out, to burn and forget.
When I write here, I do not have access to such a luxury. I may choose to revise and forget, but Google knows. I may choose to delete and permanently delete, but the second I wrote, “What,” 1s and 0s lined up and vowed to never ever forget. I want to be remembered, but my 18 year-old self can’t even promise my 19 year-old self that what I write today and in the months to come will be something I’m proud of. Immortalised. Book in the library if all goes well. My 8 year-old dreams come true. MAK on the spine of my first bound work. Beautiful. Perfect. But what do I say? God, what do I say? |