I want to experience so many more things. I'm sick of this repeated every day. With no interest, no excitement, no difference. All stress, all boredom. I'm sick of it all. So tell me, where did my motivation go? And all I can do is recall past feelings to write about. I can't stand this. I want to feel new things! I want to experience the world with all my might and soul, and try and live so hard that I don't even make it back in the end. I don't want to wither in this same place and scenery. I'm not a flower on display; I'm a human being with legs, arms, beating heart, brain, and flowing blood. I want to move farther and farther on. I don't care for competition, I don't care for a system that can only reduce me to a few letters. I'm more than a few words. In fact, once I answer a question in words, it almost always feels as though I wasn't able to convey everything. And besides, most words in the question died. It's a special occasion when words are remembered. What's more important: the words or the person? Truthfully, I already know the answer. It must be the person, right? So why must I be reduced to not even words, and only numbers and letters- dead things. I, a living being, am reduced to a list of dead things (things that didn't even live in the first place-incomplete), to represent what people don't understand about me. Everything I produce is dead. Every word I speak dies as soon as it is released from the tongue. So I thought about this. My goal as a human being is rather simple.
I will write living words.
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