infinitesimal

i ran across a close acquaintance today. they asked me, “what’s the point?” this common feeling of inadequate mixed with existential incompletion comes and goes like sunrises through living room windows. it’s gone for a stretch of time, then blinds fields of vision trying to catch a glimpse of the outside world. when craning necks

the only way to really get started is to start from behind

there is so much to a beginning. the exodus makes sense — the pieces are all on the board. but its origin is forever questionable. how does any destiny “begin”? it’s that feeling when you want to push yourself to do more. when the little and big responsibilities aren’t a burden, but a necessity to