I’ve tried something a little bit different today. Its not a poem and its not really a thought or story. Instead, a sort of more creative way of writing out a thought, but almost verging on (very) short story. I can’t really explain it, so i’ll just share this little bit of writing and you can tell me what you think…
My simple world
It was late. Yet I still kept writing; scribbling away on pages and pages of once pristine white paper. It felt almost terrible to cover something so pure in the scrawling mess of writing that was so haphazardly forced upon it – The paper’s purity slowly being enveloped in a writer’s struggle to express the feelings he know he feels, without knowing exactly what they are.
Reader, I ask you whether you also have felt emotions that don’t seem to fit the limited vocabulary we have devoted to feelings? After all, we all are so different from one another that what we feel and how we are affected by the strange happenings of the world surely cannot be completely described in ways we can accurately pass onto others.
It was one such feeling that I slaved upon into the early hours of the morning. It had been troubling me for a whole day now and seemed particularly out of the ordinary. How could one conversation change the whole of my simple world?
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