Writing is life ...

Every word I breathe here is alive to me. I don't, and won't be able to know how, or what others feel about theirs, but that's how I feel now of what is written here. In itself, they're life on their own. These words are never mine to be control after setting them free into the world. Here seated, sweating in a hot room, feeling tense for not knowing the next sentence. It might spur out from nowhere surprising me. The sound of whirring machine dispersing fragrance into the humid air, located on the floor beside me. The calm, almost haunting silence of the night, make me wonder what else is out there lingering in the darkness, under the bright and big full round moon, almost hidden by thick cloud. There is more playing around, among themselves inside my mind. Running aimlessly, untroubled of its existence. Nothing can stop them from finding amusement, making a carnival of my mind. Is my dark thoughts a crime? Would dark, and twisted entertainment become an ultimate vice to destroy human species? Wiping them out from existence. What if our thoughts is not ours to own, and publicly available for others to purchase commercially like those products advertised on TV, readily available on the store shelf? What if, what if, and there's more what if; ending with a big IF! Life is a big story we made of ourselves in the world we bind together for amusement.