You know not what it means to be alive until you have inhaled the dusty light of the windowpane in an empty room. Staring into a brightness; immersing yourself in the completeness of the world that awaits you, seeking nothing. Then there you are. You must become nothing to know what it feels like to be alive. You must become paralyzed to understand the meaning of the tips of your fingers. You must stop to understand the intensity of having gone. You have to. Or you'll be dead.
Sincerely, Me
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