small instant in time

it’s raining and i can see the little rain drops dripping from the lamp post. the deep blue sky of the night, the subtle shimmer of the rain on the grass, the little water ponds streaming, moving, flowing.

a small instant in time.

the leaves of the bushes barely moving from the rain drops hitting from the sky.

and i keep thinking, we are all going to be forgotten. no one will remember my existence, no witness to my mundane life. it’s a relief. who’s truly looking? nothing really matters.

so, we need to be true.

how to be true? how can i be my most authentic self if we keep absorbing other people, pictures, videos, readings? if nothing is truly original, everything is learned.

doesn’t that mean that what might come across as authentic is just a perception already built by someone, something else?

how can i truly dismantle myself? how can we really be that unique version of ourselves?

i guess part of being human is sharing interests and ways of being. there’s always something that resembles another. and that’s on purpose, in our design, to be able to relate. only by relating to others as social creatures do we get to experience the beauty of the human range of experiences and emotions.

i keep looking at this yellow light lamp post, and i wonder. i just keep wondering.

will someone read my shitty writing? that’s another interesting thought loop.

why the need to share through writing?

why the need to express? same thing. relation, connection. recognition of my unoriginal thoughts.

i’ll better just keep looking at the lamp post, keep looking at the beautiful rain and the deep blue night of this little moment, soon to be forgotten forever in time.