The blank paper stares back at me in mockery.
The few words that are scattered across the page
In what is a lame excuse for a thought,
Only add insult to injury.
Like it’s almost better to not have started writing.
No flow.
No rhythm.
No subject.
No body.
No purpose.
What quantity of thoughts my mind fabricates,
More than lacks in diversity.
You can’t write, Tucker.
You have no more Passion.
No Creativity.
No Words.
No Motivation.
No Will.
The words are laughing like a voice in a Haunted Halloween house.
Is that because I’m haunted?
Come to think of it, maybe.
Not maybe, yes.
I’m haunted every second of every day.
But, we all are.
Who doesn’t wake up in the morning or fall asleep at night thinking about some regret they’ve had in life?
I write these words in search of an answer.
But these are my words, and I have no answer.
So why am I writing to find one?
What is could possible stick out and give me an answer?
Hell, I don’t even know what answer I’m looking for.
Is there even an answer?
An answer to what though?
Love?
Loss?
Happiness?
Life?
Death?
No.
There can’t be.
If there is then it’s not your question to be answered, is it?
If I have a question that doesn’t have an answer, is that even a question?
What else would it be, Tucker?
I don’t know. Does anyone?
Probably not.
Or is that why we live life?
In search f those answers?
Maybe, but how do we know if we’ve found them if they don’t have an answer?
Or maybe they do have an answer.
But since, it’s not a universal answer, we have nothing to compare our findings to.
Someone told me that only consistent thing in life is change.
Why do we change though?
What makes us love, only to throw it away?
What makes us want to gain what we know we’ll lose?
And conversely, lose what we’ve gained so we can gain something new?
Why are we never contempt with filling our cups of life?
Is it the desire to better ourselves?
It has to be, Tucker.
But when do we know when we have all that we deserve?
We don’t. We can’t. Otherwise it’s like life has been put into our hands.
We would have no passion to get more than what we’re told.
No creativity to work around the adversity that life throws at us.
No motivation to better our current situation.
No will to better our lives.
Tucker, this whole this is stupid.
Why are you even writing this?
You told yourself that it’s not going to teach you anything.
So it can’t teach anyone else anything.
This entire thing is a mockery of poetry, Tucker
Stop this.
But never stop wondering.
There is so much to wonder about.
An infinite number, really.
Infinite isn’t a number though.
It’s an expression.
An expression to say that numbers are never ending.
But how else can we begin to fathom infinity if we didn’t give it a word.
We can’t imagine infinity. We have nothing to try and compare it to.
But by trying to put a label on something that doesn’t exist so that we can try to comprehend it, almost eliminates what was really there in the first place.
It isn’t as pure now.
By placing the word infinity for the fact that it lasts forever, we forget that it really does.
But nothing lasts forever, or so I’m told.
What makes love an exception?
You can ask anyone who is happily married that love lasts forever.
But, at the same time, experts in every field say that nothing lasts forever.
If love is the one thing that lasts forever and stands above all things,
Does that make it the answer?
Is love what drives our desire to better ourselves and those around us?
Is it love that makes us want to become more successful?
Is it love that can ease the pain of loss and death?
Is it the want to love and be loved in return that fuels our universe?
Do the sun, moon, and stars appear in rotation to give us motivation to try and compare what we are feeling to something in the universe?
Do birds sing the melodies that our hearts put forth when we are in love?
Or do we see the beauty in these everyday things because we are in love?
To be continued...
The few words that are scattered across the page
In what is a lame excuse for a thought,
Only add insult to injury.
Like it’s almost better to not have started writing.
No flow.
No rhythm.
No subject.
No body.
No purpose.
What quantity of thoughts my mind fabricates,
More than lacks in diversity.
You can’t write, Tucker.
You have no more Passion.
No Creativity.
No Words.
No Motivation.
No Will.
The words are laughing like a voice in a Haunted Halloween house.
Is that because I’m haunted?
Come to think of it, maybe.
Not maybe, yes.
I’m haunted every second of every day.
But, we all are.
Who doesn’t wake up in the morning or fall asleep at night thinking about some regret they’ve had in life?
I write these words in search of an answer.
But these are my words, and I have no answer.
So why am I writing to find one?
What is could possible stick out and give me an answer?
Hell, I don’t even know what answer I’m looking for.
Is there even an answer?
An answer to what though?
Love?
Loss?
Happiness?
Life?
Death?
No.
There can’t be.
If there is then it’s not your question to be answered, is it?
If I have a question that doesn’t have an answer, is that even a question?
What else would it be, Tucker?
I don’t know. Does anyone?
Probably not.
Or is that why we live life?
In search f those answers?
Maybe, but how do we know if we’ve found them if they don’t have an answer?
Or maybe they do have an answer.
But since, it’s not a universal answer, we have nothing to compare our findings to.
Someone told me that only consistent thing in life is change.
Why do we change though?
What makes us love, only to throw it away?
What makes us want to gain what we know we’ll lose?
And conversely, lose what we’ve gained so we can gain something new?
Why are we never contempt with filling our cups of life?
Is it the desire to better ourselves?
It has to be, Tucker.
But when do we know when we have all that we deserve?
We don’t. We can’t. Otherwise it’s like life has been put into our hands.
We would have no passion to get more than what we’re told.
No creativity to work around the adversity that life throws at us.
No motivation to better our current situation.
No will to better our lives.
Tucker, this whole this is stupid.
Why are you even writing this?
You told yourself that it’s not going to teach you anything.
So it can’t teach anyone else anything.
This entire thing is a mockery of poetry, Tucker
Stop this.
But never stop wondering.
There is so much to wonder about.
An infinite number, really.
Infinite isn’t a number though.
It’s an expression.
An expression to say that numbers are never ending.
But how else can we begin to fathom infinity if we didn’t give it a word.
We can’t imagine infinity. We have nothing to try and compare it to.
But by trying to put a label on something that doesn’t exist so that we can try to comprehend it, almost eliminates what was really there in the first place.
It isn’t as pure now.
By placing the word infinity for the fact that it lasts forever, we forget that it really does.
But nothing lasts forever, or so I’m told.
What makes love an exception?
You can ask anyone who is happily married that love lasts forever.
But, at the same time, experts in every field say that nothing lasts forever.
If love is the one thing that lasts forever and stands above all things,
Does that make it the answer?
Is love what drives our desire to better ourselves and those around us?
Is it love that makes us want to become more successful?
Is it love that can ease the pain of loss and death?
Is it the want to love and be loved in return that fuels our universe?
Do the sun, moon, and stars appear in rotation to give us motivation to try and compare what we are feeling to something in the universe?
Do birds sing the melodies that our hearts put forth when we are in love?
Or do we see the beauty in these everyday things because we are in love?
To be continued...
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