I will still write like me. If I write any other way it won’t be me. I will not be the fullest me I can be. And in being myself, am I not at my center?

Weird_Freak says something now!: “Very fascinating Joe, I can dig it.”
Joe: “Whatever Weird_Freak”.

Just then something happened that never happened before. Unfortunately, since this happening never happened before, there are no words to describe this said aforementioned happening. But never the less, it did happen all the same.

Joe: “What was that? Did everyone else see the happening?”
Weird_Freak speaks more drivel me nots NOW! “I did not see the said aforementioned happening you talk about Joe, and neither nor do I care.”
Slow_Joe enters the scene: “What’s all the commotion about here”
And just then Joe stopped writing. Why did he stop writing? Just because he could, that’s why.

Then sometime later after this is posted someone reads it and thinks:

Well I don’t really know what anyone will think. I mean them no harm. They can think what they want, I don’t care, I will still be me.

This morning while I was laying in bed I envisioned myself laying on the ground, face up, half covered in the earth. I envisioned myself as melding with the earth, being one with the earth. The earth felt great joy from all the life upon it.

Oh the many horrors of the past, may they all be transformed into brilliant streaming rays of glorious light forevermore.

I will play the fool, call me stupid if you will for I will ask stupid questions and propose stupid ideals. But then again there are no stupid questions nor stupid ideals.