do we write for ourselves or do we write for others? few of us really write for those around us. it’s like we are talking to some distant someone that we have never met and probably never will. and they know exactly what we mean. perhaps we write because we are lonely, and we need someone, or something, to reach out to. we write, and our writing is the muttering to ourselves that no one could ever really comprehend. and in writing, we find someone that does. and we find the hope that maybe someone out there truly understand.
it’s the ultimate form of the ruminating, pacing self. always in contemplation. and perhaps that’s why many of us feel lonely. because we are. we feel so lonely that we would rather talk to nothingness in the hope that maybe, one day, someone would find our message floating on the other side of the ocean. and in that hope, we aren’t really so alone, are we? i’m leaving a piece of my mind here, for perpetuity or however long it may survive. take a look at it! take a peek into my mind!