Sometimes it’s nice to write something, and after attempting to grab the first topic – in this case, “actualization”– it’s getting to the point where thoughts terminate themselves.
As though there’s a mental immune system and it knows the more one feeds thoughts to things like “actualization” so it will spread. Harmony is preferable when possible.
So these thoughts seem alien.
Some words come off as artillery which alerts any there’s no point enduring some shell-shock for a meeting.
Some words signal there’s another alien in the room.
It’s amusing how easy it may be to crave for an “alien” appearance, shadowy depth to existence – but once you’re in that pit, well, one could surmise that perhaps not many would want to feel so foreign to everything most times.
There are several missed text messages and calls for the past few months. For some reason the impetus to answer faded away. Or the convenience of saying “handle it tomorrow” became the axiom by which one could filter the problem queue.
Who do you want to talk to the most?
It’s a trick question: the answer is rarely talking.