Words on a page. What's the point?
The ticking of my keyboard, the scribble of my pencil against a random scrap of paper- trying to convey some kind of meaning.
What am I trying to say? Am I trying to tell you something?
More importantly, what are you getting out of it? Are you trying to read this through my perspective, which only I will truly understand, or are you reading it with your own spin on things? (Here's a hint- you should try for the latter.)
Are you taking what I say and molding it to the world around you; the reality of your life?
Or do you make futile and feeble guesses at what I'm going through that makes me write in the style I do with the content I choose?
Maybe "choose" is too harsh of a word. I believe in free will, don't get me wrong, but there are some things that I put down on paper that I know aren't fully mine. They're not stolen, either, but they're more of a sense of the world that happens to filter through my fingers and onto this page.
Like I said, love- words on a page.
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