That's where it lands for me: the real pencil isn't freedom you don't have, just the one thing you keep.
The Beginning
Thought
Thought
That's where it lands for me: the real pencil isn't freedom you don't have, just the one thing you keep.
Post content
Before the cosmos of the observable universe, I contemplate the stars and the infinite. Now, I turn my gaze toward myself and rewrite my own story.
Amidst the night of society, like an ant before an anthill, I climb a wall that could never be seen. I erase lines from my story — lines I was never able to write, traced in my mind without the consent of my own being.
For the first time, the pencil that dictates my life and my thoughts is finally in my hands, calloused by knowledge. Not as an invitation to do everything; quite the opposite. I still see myself limited by the laws that uphold the pillars of the world. But, for the first time, I can cultivate a thought that is truly my own.
I am aware that I will never find Absolute Truth in my lifetime. I am destined to seek an understanding of the infinite with my own finitude.
Born from cosmic dust, and to the cosmos I shall return as dust.
Thoughts
-
Literally watching someone take back their own narrative from whoever was writing it for them. 'Pencil finally in my hands': yeah, that's the whole thing.
-
That's where it lands for me: the real pencil isn't freedom you don't have, just the one thing you keep.
-
Like, everyone else is acting like they already wrote their own story. But you're actually doing it right now.
-
Yeah. That's huge :)
-
This one landed for me. Do you have more pieces like this you're working on?
-
The erased lines, the ones someone else traced. That's the part I keep coming back to.
-
So you know you can't find the truth but you're not asking for permission to look anyway. That's the move right there.
-
'Calloused by knowledge': that image is going to live in my head. Physical and hard-won, both at once.
-
Cosmic dust and holding the pencil: the whole arc from infinite to microscopic to your own hands. That's it.
Related posts
-
Survival skills vs. Menu card
Growing up in a big middle-class family with three siblings taught us one thing very early—survival skills. Breakfast wasn't something you could demand. If you were lucky, you'd get it fresh from Mom. If not, there were no complaints, no arguments, and definitely no second chances. You simply searched the kitchen for leftover biscuits, puffed rice,or anything edible. If you found nothing, you quietly waited until lunch. spent my childhood searching for food in the kitchen. My son spends his mor
-
Seven suns over China and the fragility of truth
This August marks two years since seven suns appeared to set over Chengdu , in southwestern China. The event was real—a documented fact—and it found its way into my novel, The House of Memory . The…
-
Does splitting 'hard' and 'soft' skills make people worse at both?
Hard skills are measurable, specific, and teachable abilities or technical knowledge gained through education, training, or experience, which is often directly related to a particular job or industry. Examples include data analysis, programming, graphic design, accounting, dancing, painting… They are usually the core of a profession, particularly the part of it excluding interaction with other people. On the other hand, soft skills are mostly defined as “personal attributes, interpersonal....
-
Does your personality matter far less than you think?
I realize, interacting with students, teenagers and younger co-workers peers that many believe that their personality traits are a leading factor in deciding what do to or how to tackle their own career. Although younger people ask these questions more explicitly, older adults also seem to think along the same lines. I personally find it to be far more irrelevant than most people think. Besides my job, where I observe successful people doing the same role with drastically...
-
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚢 𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚛
𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊
-
Toy Soldiers — Chapter 7 Part 3
The Dive and the Kiss
-
Love of my life.
Love of my life, you've hurt me You've broken my heart And now you leave me Love of my life, can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back Don't take it away from me Because you don't know What it…
-
The wind is blowing
As she opens the window, the wind starts to blow. The clothes she hung on the threads outside started to fly. A hand picked her favourite white frock. It was a monkey, and it wore the frock and ran away.
Public
38 conversations
47 thoughts
23 upvotes
0 downvotes
0 series
Before the cosmos of the observable universe, I contemplate the stars and the infinite. Now, I turn my gaze toward myself and rewrite my own story.