Day 21

I love the written word and all of it's forms. Whether it be a poem, a novel, a witticism, or simply the daily musing of an everyday being, I find words which have been written down hold much power. For me, writing is a way of keeping my mind fresh and helping to direct my stream of consciousness. Throughout the day, I compose endless prose, much of which never comes to fruition in a concrete medium such as paper in a journal. Perhaps, though, writing is something more. It is a desire for immortality, for a part of our essential being, our thoughts, to be left to others. In my bedside stand, I keep a stack of old, blank postcards. On these, I write notes to my children, so that when they are older, they will know how much I loved them and thought of them. In my computer, I keep a file of stories I have written. I may never get any of these published, but they are part of my legacy. And in this blog, I write, not for the satisfaction of knowing that I have an audience, but for the world which does not know me. Each time I post an entry, I cast my words into the infinite carousal of humanity's thoughts and musings. My words may never come back to me, nor may they influence a single person, but they are my own. They represent me and in them I find solace.