• myrrhc 41w

    i don't have much time to write this. i'm just always running out of time, but i can't let this one pass.

    for @writersbay (and their kind hearts),
    to oblivion;

    i'm thinking of a pronoun that i can refer to it, a nothing, not-a-thing. which kind of interjects the purpose of this write-up, because i shouldn't be referring to anything at all. that's why it's oblivion. but in that case, there may not be any underlying interest for this. i mean, that should make sense because a letter is supposed to be "a direct or personal written or printed message addressed to a person," or a thing in another case, as merriam-webster dictionary dictates. but if your recipient doesn't end up reading it, will you still find the same essence in those words?

    there can't be anything i can accurately describe it. not even emptiness when there are gazillion micro-things in this adjacent void, swipe that out and you may have dark matter. i know, it's not something that is completely understood other than a zero being the midline between the positives and the negatives. can't multiply, can't divide; and against itself, it is stuck in an endless loop, over and over in repetitive thoughts.

    if you think about it, space is much more closely defined as infinity rather than absolutely nothing at all. there are times that i can use this word against and with myself. contradicting points to the lack of purpose, or any overpassed bias, because maybe nothing is only a figure of speech we obtain to define something we cannot afford to describe.

    there is a blank slate between you and the sky whom one calls nothing when it's dark, and the properties of people being subjected into dreams that may or may not simplify the concept of barely existing. ask the little child which flying kite she'd choose when the moon was learning to peek under the tree trunk's arch, and the light was preserving not a single string. she'd tell you she couldn't choose, because the night was sleep deprived.

    it's easy to fear oblivion, as if it is a choice to be afraid. perhaps it's just the same concept as to key holes and baggage counters, off to a limited phase that tells one your purpose isn't the definition of somebody else's things. you are ought to be remembered, cannot not be forgotten, all things as it shouldn't naught remaining in succession to a was, an is, as it will be.

    i tell myself often that perhaps i am nothing in this world, because i know not my grand importance. but the absence of a particularity doesn't magnify the concept of nothing. there might be no root in my words. no thing, no order, no interest, no matter, not-a-single-thing to be objected as anything. but it should, at least, be a collection of undefined words. any kind of worth you can divide right above this zero, will remain oblivious when always in an adjacent state.

    and to this oblivion, most people might end up fearing. it is, therefore, a gift. a pronoun you can use to write a letter to, when the rest of the explanatory matter doesn't make more sense.

    thank you, writersbay. truly.
    my unworthiness curtseys to you guys.

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