Dead End

Today I feel strange. Strange enough to write about this. I feel a fire. In my upper back to be specific. Writing helps me find a way to release this tension. If you are reading this, I want you to know that we are connected. Regardless of the time and space that separates us. We are connected and writing allows this.

But how connected are we truly are? Well, I am in charge at this point. I am telling you what I want you to read and you are making sense of the language as we go along. But I mean another type of connection. I feel in the need to express something, and you are here looking for answers.

This very minimal act, this small thread, that I laid upon the web and you just ended up holding on to – it is our connection. This is how we work. We need each other. There is no writer without a reader. Until the moment that you read this words this text is lifeless. You brought life to this dead end.

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