12 Minutes of Thoughts.
12 minutes to write. I don't exactly know what I want to say, but there's a big world out there.
11 minutes now, and I am a bit stressed because life and movement and growth take an inexplicably huge amount of energy and focus, and the world is spinning faster and faster and we'll never keep up, etc.
10 minutes. Edited some. Writing more. Listening to music. But back to the centrifuge that is our world, spitting the weak out into the unknown, those that couldn't hold on, keep up.
9 minutes. But it's cool, because we've got a safety net/reality check.
8 minutes. It's Him, of course, you knew this would be the answer. When is He ever not? Breathe, Anthea.
7 minutes. Whew. Breathe. Listen to the music. Breathe.
6 minutes. I want to write song. Honest, sincere, living songs, whose notes soar through your headphones like so many birds.
5 minutes. The beats like so many earthquakes, shaking your heart to its core. Someone said (paraphrasing here)
4 minutes. That music is something about which we have to be careful, because its form effortlessly bypasses our minds and reason, reaching instantly our
3 minutes. Soul.
Well, that's a fair stopping point to a mediocre post, but calc awaits. This timing
2 minutes. is realtime. It does take this long for me to write. I don't know who I'm writing to, maybe myself, maybe someone needs to hear 12 minutes of confused thoughts. I don't know a lot of things. 1 minute. See you later.
11 minutes now, and I am a bit stressed because life and movement and growth take an inexplicably huge amount of energy and focus, and the world is spinning faster and faster and we'll never keep up, etc.
10 minutes. Edited some. Writing more. Listening to music. But back to the centrifuge that is our world, spitting the weak out into the unknown, those that couldn't hold on, keep up.
9 minutes. But it's cool, because we've got a safety net/reality check.
8 minutes. It's Him, of course, you knew this would be the answer. When is He ever not? Breathe, Anthea.
7 minutes. Whew. Breathe. Listen to the music. Breathe.
6 minutes. I want to write song. Honest, sincere, living songs, whose notes soar through your headphones like so many birds.
5 minutes. The beats like so many earthquakes, shaking your heart to its core. Someone said (paraphrasing here)
4 minutes. That music is something about which we have to be careful, because its form effortlessly bypasses our minds and reason, reaching instantly our
3 minutes. Soul.
Well, that's a fair stopping point to a mediocre post, but calc awaits. This timing
2 minutes. is realtime. It does take this long for me to write. I don't know who I'm writing to, maybe myself, maybe someone needs to hear 12 minutes of confused thoughts. I don't know a lot of things. 1 minute. See you later.
Comments
Post a Comment