EVERYTHING AND NOTHING I feel this dull aching arise now and then that reminds me of my mortality. Sometimes I escape it, and other times I dwell on it. The times I dwell on it lead me to introspection, and now it has led me to writing this. I have spent many years letting my thoughts fly around, never catching them. I never saw them as important, and perhaps if I let them fly as birds I could vicariously live my freedom through them. The unfortunate reality is that thoughts have little meaning unless they are immortalized in some fashion, and even then assigning substance is a tall order. But what if I have been lying to myself? I am a good listener. I know I am. I ask myself, what if I have listened too much? what if I have manifested all the lies I've absorbed from others and the world only to realize that they were never me, but rather the furthest thing from me, an alienation of my true self. And that is when the pre...