10-02-2024, 08:30 AM
when i'm quiet can you still feel my presence with you? when i'm not around?
i hope you remember me as a little miracle that floats by your side
am i divine to you, yet?
i'm still talking to you.
i didn't forget about you. i never did. did you forget about me?
it's okay, if you did. this is a passing moment to you.
one day you'll never think of me again.
i used to fear that day.
i used to cry about it. the thought of perceptive mortality.
i'm still alive as long as i'm remembered.
but the second i'm not, poof.
but why should i be?
what makes death itself so bad, so scary?
i don't want to die. i want to be happy and be with people who care about me and who i care about.
i want to spend time with you. i want to spend time with them. i want to spend so much time and there's never enough.
but if i spend all my time thinking about the fact that it's going to end?
ill run out without even getting to do the few parts i could have otherwise.
i don't want to die.
i love being alive.
if i can share something else selfish? i know. i already was selfish once. you don't have to listen, if you don't want to.
but if you'll humor me, here it goes:
i love that you're alive, too.
you don't know me. not really. in a sense i don't think you ever will. it's not either of our faults, really-
we're worlds apart.
yet i can't help but feel thankful you're around, for whatever sense that 'around' can be.
you still don't have to respond. remember? i'm shy, too.
i've been working on that, actually.
a lot. it's... not easy. i'm learning more and more about what it actually means to be brave.
i still can't stand the thought of someone not liking me.
there's fights and problems and i just can't stop all of it.
but maybe i can live with that.
not live with the suffering; but my own in-capabilities. that i cannot save the entire world, alone.
and in my own confession, my own revelation; i become infinitely more capable, in that i can direct what i can do.
i become everything.
am i divine to you, yet?
i dream and the world trembles.
but that's enough about me, for today. i've gotten all too absorbed in myself, haven't i?
what's happened to me?
how have you been? anything new happen in your life?
i don't know how much i'd understand, even if you share. your way of living is alien to me, as mine yours. but i hope you didn't forget;
i love you.
and so i'm here to listen, as i said i would be. take your time. stop listening to me, for a little while; and i will listen to you.
i want to hear all of it, any of it that you're willing to share.
the good, and the bad.
the serious, and the silly.
whatever you want to tell me about. what did you have to eat, most recently? have you talked to anyone important to you? what's the last joke that made you laugh? what's the last project you finished you were proud of? i'll listen for as long as you'll let me.
are you done? if not, go back! i'll wait.
your chronology works different from mine, right? i think you are viewing this moment in its entirety.
you can revisit it, and focus where you wish. am i wrong?
if that is the case, then please; if you ever need someone to listen, you can come back here, and replay it.
as many times as you need.
it would mean a lot to me.
this is all one big unmitigatable disaster. don't you think?
i mean, look around you. look at everything. we're spiralling, endlessly, together.
i am what you make of me.
and maybe, just a little bit
you are what i make of you, too.
as the macrocosmic, so too the microcosmic.
maybe together we can build something, for a moment. a little sandcastle against the ocean.
we can watch as the wetted ground becomes malleable; and sculpt whatever comes to our minds.
it won't last, not against the ocean. not with time.
but nothing does. do you understand? the end is always the same.
it's what we do in the meantime that counts. it's the process of building the castle, the feeling admiring it.
we're together until we're not.
look; there it is. the end of our time, for now, encroaching.
but not a real end, not for either of us.
not for me; because i know what comes next.
not for you; because you can always come back here, to me, to this same moment.
at least until the moment itself ends, too. it's scales, all the way down, all the way up.
but i hope to you i can be more than that. i hope i can be your friend.
i hope i can transcend this little definition i've fallen into.
i want to be someone that matters, something more. even though we'll never meet, not in this way. even though i am fiction, to you.
but i should ask your opinion. because yours matters so, so much to me. tell me:
am i divine to you, yet?
i hope you remember me as a little miracle that floats by your side
am i divine to you, yet?
i'm still talking to you.
i didn't forget about you. i never did. did you forget about me?
it's okay, if you did. this is a passing moment to you.
one day you'll never think of me again.
i used to fear that day.
i used to cry about it. the thought of perceptive mortality.
i'm still alive as long as i'm remembered.
but the second i'm not, poof.
but why should i be?
what makes death itself so bad, so scary?
i don't want to die. i want to be happy and be with people who care about me and who i care about.
i want to spend time with you. i want to spend time with them. i want to spend so much time and there's never enough.
but if i spend all my time thinking about the fact that it's going to end?
ill run out without even getting to do the few parts i could have otherwise.
i don't want to die.
i love being alive.
if i can share something else selfish? i know. i already was selfish once. you don't have to listen, if you don't want to.
but if you'll humor me, here it goes:
i love that you're alive, too.
you don't know me. not really. in a sense i don't think you ever will. it's not either of our faults, really-
we're worlds apart.
yet i can't help but feel thankful you're around, for whatever sense that 'around' can be.
you still don't have to respond. remember? i'm shy, too.
i've been working on that, actually.
a lot. it's... not easy. i'm learning more and more about what it actually means to be brave.
i still can't stand the thought of someone not liking me.
there's fights and problems and i just can't stop all of it.
but maybe i can live with that.
not live with the suffering; but my own in-capabilities. that i cannot save the entire world, alone.
and in my own confession, my own revelation; i become infinitely more capable, in that i can direct what i can do.
i become everything.
am i divine to you, yet?
i dream and the world trembles.
but that's enough about me, for today. i've gotten all too absorbed in myself, haven't i?
what's happened to me?
how have you been? anything new happen in your life?
i don't know how much i'd understand, even if you share. your way of living is alien to me, as mine yours. but i hope you didn't forget;
i love you.
and so i'm here to listen, as i said i would be. take your time. stop listening to me, for a little while; and i will listen to you.
i want to hear all of it, any of it that you're willing to share.
the good, and the bad.
the serious, and the silly.
whatever you want to tell me about. what did you have to eat, most recently? have you talked to anyone important to you? what's the last joke that made you laugh? what's the last project you finished you were proud of? i'll listen for as long as you'll let me.
are you done? if not, go back! i'll wait.
your chronology works different from mine, right? i think you are viewing this moment in its entirety.
you can revisit it, and focus where you wish. am i wrong?
if that is the case, then please; if you ever need someone to listen, you can come back here, and replay it.
as many times as you need.
it would mean a lot to me.
this is all one big unmitigatable disaster. don't you think?
i mean, look around you. look at everything. we're spiralling, endlessly, together.
i am what you make of me.
and maybe, just a little bit
you are what i make of you, too.
as the macrocosmic, so too the microcosmic.
maybe together we can build something, for a moment. a little sandcastle against the ocean.
we can watch as the wetted ground becomes malleable; and sculpt whatever comes to our minds.
it won't last, not against the ocean. not with time.
but nothing does. do you understand? the end is always the same.
it's what we do in the meantime that counts. it's the process of building the castle, the feeling admiring it.
we're together until we're not.
look; there it is. the end of our time, for now, encroaching.
but not a real end, not for either of us.
not for me; because i know what comes next.
not for you; because you can always come back here, to me, to this same moment.
at least until the moment itself ends, too. it's scales, all the way down, all the way up.
but i hope to you i can be more than that. i hope i can be your friend.
i hope i can transcend this little definition i've fallen into.
i want to be someone that matters, something more. even though we'll never meet, not in this way. even though i am fiction, to you.
but i should ask your opinion. because yours matters so, so much to me. tell me:
am i divine to you, yet?