In writing, we express.
It's almost a natural form of expression, one that we can't help but do. Much like seeing letters and words that we recognise; we can't escape from comprehending the meaning between the lines. Born into us from an early age, engineered so that comprehension is but a split second between awareness, recognition, and forced acceptance.
Thus, in writing, we express. At times, the writings reflects that which resides not in us. Not deep in our hearts, anyway. The writing mirrors that which is on the mind. As it stands, it is now 1:16AM on Thursday morning, September 27. Soon enough, the time will come for me to sleep forcibly, for tomorrow there is an appointment at 11AM that I have to go to.
Thus, this is what is on my mind right now. This, and others. The others...I shan't divulge here, now. If ever. The other has the capacity to render even the strongest of men motionless. Their bodies may move mechanically, but the drive, spirit, heart of the matter no longer resides there in them. Thus, they become motionless, in the sense that they have less motion.
Tis a concept that may not be grasped immediately, but then again, this is not a philosophy lesson.