So I had that banger of an opening to this entry, but because Apple became a shadow of what It was in the past, the notes app and the iCloud decided to stop this flux of human creativity, if Steve was alive he would be ashamed of that. Anyways, our banger of an introduction was about writing, the most humane act of all human acts, the supreme habit, and the ultimate medium.
أَيْنَ أَذْهَبُ مِنْ رُوحِكَ؟ وَمِنْ وَجْهِكَ أَيْنَ أَهْرُبُ؟
إِنْ صَعِدْتُ إِلَى السَّمَاوَاتِ فَأَنْتَ هُنَاكَ، وَإِنْ فَرَشْتُ فِي الْهَاوِيَةِ فَهَا أَنْتَ.
إِنْ أَخَذْتُ جَنَاحَيِ الصُّبْحِ، وَسَكَنْتُ فِي أَقَاصِي الْبَحْرِ،
فَهُنَاكَ أَيْضًا تَهْدِينِي يَدُكَ وَتُمْسِكُنِي يَمِينُكَ.
فَقُلْتُ: «إِنَّمَا الظُّلْمَةُ تَغْشَانِي». فَاللَّيْلُ يُضِيءُ حَوْلِي!
1000 years later, archaeologists will be no longer be looking for physical evidence, they’ll be digging deep down internet and digital archives, I feel sorry for them, imagine spending hours through tiktok NPC live streams so you can write about the culture of the jackasses who lived centuries ago.
Sometimes, you realize that is to live, is to let go, it’s to accept, to embrace the inevitable flow of time. It demands acknowledging that certain moments, like the tender touch of a beloved, the joyous laughter shared with old comrades, the cherished days of family unity. These precious fragments of existence slip through our grasp, never to be recaptured. We must come to terms with the fact that our first love, so peculiar and full of teenage wonder, has concluded, never to be relived.
Diving headfirst into the realm of psychology can often feel like standing at the edge of a vast, mysterious ocean. We feel a twinge of fear coupled with an undeniable fascination – a magnetic pull that draws us closer, but at the same time, a fear that paralyzes us on the shore. As a lifelong journeyer, I’ve danced around the edges of this ocean, feeling the cool mist on my face, but the thought of diving in has always filled me with an indescribable dread.
Dear, Dear, I still the first time we talked, and my feelings for you have been deep-rooted for a long time now. Those late nights filled with laughter and conversation, the times I excitedly shared my thoughts about Apple, and the instances when I sought your advice for my projects – they all hold a special place in my heart. You were genuinely interested in me, and I couldn’t help but fall head over heels for you.
In the depths of that desolate chasm, the solitary figure stands alone, their heart heavy with the burden of unspoken sorrows. Each step they take feels like an arduous journey, as if they are wading through a sea of memories and regrets. Their soul resonates with the haunting rhythm of sorrow, a melancholic melody that echoes through their very being. The tapestry of their existence is woven with threads of sadness and despair, painting a portrait of a life marred by emotional turbulence.
‘Tis with a heavy heart that I put pen to paper, burdened by the weight of my exams and the toils of my work. My days are filled with endless studying and labor, yet the fruits of my efforts seem elusive, mocking me from a distance. The realm of academia has become a battlefield, where I wage war against the relentless barrage of questions and assignments. Oh, how I yearn for respite, for a moment of reprieve from this constant state of anguish.
I’m doing really well at work, and I actually received a great raise recently. My writing skills, or “copies” as we call them professionally, are improving every day, and my career path is on the rise. Being in the right place at the right time has made me feel incredibly fortunate, and I’m surrounded by amazing people who give me hope in life. However, there’s a slight challenge – I need to study again.
A man should know which lost wars he’s fighting, a man should know when to retreat.