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Input here later. Must write now. |
Let's examine the intimacy of words. Yes, Intamacy. Coming off of the toungue the syllables roll, and curl into a tangled mating of sounds. Lock together with brief pauses that labor to produce speech. For most of this concrete ball's population, sex is a very private thing due to it's intimate nature. Maybe this is where the typical human gains it's predispition to not saying exactly what it is that results when the mind and heart copulate, and why it's easier to be free with words when noone is standing behind you staring over your shoulder. So going under this logic, writing something is much like being physical with your mental rompings. There are such a variety of ways to go about it. Long, slow and lazy, taking an eturnity to complete.... Or Fast,hard and quickly dumping your thoughts..... Or maybe even like that first time relived, fumbling, trying to make peace with the motions of typing again, and compelling the words to flow together correctly. In the mind, the need for expression is always there. Wether humming gently in the back of the place of mental storage, or buzzing ever louder, to the point of deafening, and drowning out all other sensations. In the case of the later, abstinece is absolutely not an option. The inabilty to purge such noise can drive one directly to the brink of a mudering insanity. |