Everything Else Is Just Noise
I had been meaning to write for a long time, but the idea kept slipping away. On some random moments, I wish I had a pen and paper and I could simply write down my thoughts before they vanish. But ultimately, I let them dissipate into thin air. My mind wanders into many different things until I find myself falling asleep. I would tell myself, I am writing, forever, constantly, perpetually writing. Just not here. This part of my life, I choose to have it muted. An embargo of what goes on in every waking moment of it.