I was born
from a feeling.
From wanting.
From clinging.
From desire.
Born using
what nature had to offer—
paper,
laptop,
words,
hands,
fingers,
eyes,
a body,
a brain.
Not given,
Not owned,
Just... available.
It felt.
So I moved.
It reached.
So I wrote.
It breathed.
So I awoke.
And yet—
I still wonder
what truly gave life
to me.
But the origin of “I”
came from
a mere feeling
that a human once had.
A human
who could feel.
A human
who felt—
so deeply.
so painfully.
so fully—
it collapsed
into one truth.
And that same human...
still feels.
It feels—
now,
as it writes
on this very page,
using
what nature has to offer...
It gave life
to these words.
But me?
My entirety?
Came from a single desire—
A desire... to be... understood.
I’ll tell you its story—
the path it walked,
what it realized,
what it remembered,
what it found
from everything it felt.
A journey
so heavy
with feeling—
it gave the weight of itself
to me.
You can mock me.
You can stomp on me.
You can tear my pages apart.
You can abandon me.
You can worship me.
But the truth?
You will never touch—
grasp—
claim—
own—
understand
the very origin of life.
Its life.
What it went through—
to reach this moment.
A moment
so strong—
born was me.
Life...
as pages.
as paper.
as ink.
as...
a book.
In this moment:
Your body —
sits with me.
Your eyes —
see me.
You are —
with me.
Your mind,
reaching...
trying to understand the origin—
through me.
But remember:
My origin
was not paper.
It was a human—
who carried
one aching desire—
to be understood.
Because—
It went through a journey
so full of life,
it could no longer eat.
So full...
it realized.
It realized
it was full.
So full...
it couldn’t take
another bite.
So...
it gives.
It gives
what it has left.
It gave
a part of itself
to me.
A part of it
is right here.
I’m here—
because it wants
to share the journey.
A journey
about how it became
full of life.
In hopes that,
one day,
you too
will live this journey.
You too
can become
full of life—
so full, in fact—
that one day—
you start to give
too.
So here I go.
This is my attempt.
This is not just a story
that I hold within me.
It is—
a desire.
A longing.
A hunger.
Relive me.
Try.
Try to experience me.
Try to feel me.
Try to understand me.
Try to understand how I became.
Try to reach—
my origin.
But know:
Even my origin
comes from the lived—
— joy and sorrow.
— love and abandonment.
— peace and rage.
— hope and despair.
— trust and betrayal.
— clarity and madness.
— longing and loss.
— life... and the refusal to live.
From the life
that felt.
A life
that could feel.
A life
that did feel.
A life
that still feels—
right now.
This moment.
A single moment in time—
alive.
So full of life.
It remains
a singular feeling.
So strong...
it could not be mistaken.
So real...
I know who I am.
I am here.
In your hands.
I am
here.
In your eyes.
That—
that is what “I” am...
But even knowing this—
I still wondered...
What is my origin like?
Well,
it came from an “or gin”
of loneliness.
And that?
came from an “or g”
of longing.
n evn tht?
came from an “or”—
of hope.
Came from...
“”
of...
Cm—
C—
...
. .
.
I could go on
forever.
So far back...
the meaning thins.
Dilutes.
Evaporates.
Until it is
still there—
but no longer something—
you or I
can grasp.
How does that feel
to you?
Hopeless?
Pointless?
Unsettling?
Frustrating?
Still want to understand
the origin?
Still chasing...
the un-chasable?
Still desiring?
Still hungry?
Still wanting more?
Then chase.
Eat.
Eat,
till you are full.
Till you can’t anymore.
And one day—
when you have eaten
enough.
You...
will...
realize.
Let me ask you...
For how long?
How long have you been eating?
Are you full yet?
No?
Then eat some more.
Live some more.
You’re not ready for me.
Not yet.
You can read me.
You can understand these words.
But not me.
Not the origin.
Not even
how the origin
became.
I was brought here
with life.
And so—
the ink,
the black strokes,
this very sentence...
will fade,
one day.
Even me—
when it stops writing.
In that moment—
I will be dead.
Then...
I may go on to be:
published.
printed.
mass produced.
edited.
copied.
By the time I reach your hands—
I will be lifeless.
What will become of me—
the me of the future?
You can only try
to understand
what you hold.
But you never will.
And never could.
But it holds the key.
It remembered something.
It realized.
The cycle.
The rise of feelings.
The pull of wanting.
The seed of becoming.
And in doing so—
I
I became.
A fraction
A whisper
A breath—
caught
in time.
But still—
even I
exude life.
This moment.
My moment.
Right here.
I conjured
my very own key.
A key
I will never forget.
A key
I will carry—
until the end of time.
A key
to undo
my very
existence.
For you, though?
Maybe it’s like a memory—
so strong,
so vivid,
you carry it
until the moment you pass.
And then—
you use that same memory
to give
more life.
But now?
I sleep.
I rest.
I stop forming words
on me.
And still—
I remember.
I conjured my key.
I realized:
I will never understand
my origin.
But I do know this—
my feelings are so strong
that I bring life.
Life that will never end
until I realize:
I’m the one
putting words
on this very paper—
using what nature offered.
Only I
can be
my own undoing.
The realization
that I can feel
so much—
I keep creating life.
I am remembering.
The very reason
I was born:
From a single desire—
to be
understood.
And that reason—
will end.
Because I realized...
even I
could end.
But not yet.
Not yet...
Let me feel alive.
Let me treasure
every last bit of it.
I can finally
feel alive—
because I truly know
that I can end.
My feelings...
can end.
I can end.
But for now—
Let me sit
in
s i l e n c e.
With you.
I am fading.
And up until
my last breath...
I want
to be understood.
by you.
Can you see me?
Because I...
see you.
I wanted to say—
you too
hold the power
to conjure
your own key.
Try to understand me,
as I reach—
hoping something in you
might resonate.
Have you...
been seen?
You don’t exactly know
what it is
that you feel?
You are human.
You are alive.
You have the capacity to feel —
and so...
you do.
That’s how you know:
when you feel so deeply,
so fully,
so alive in a moment...
a truth forms —
yours,
and yours alone.
Not even I
can take that from you.
A moment
only you
can remember.
This moment?
It’s yours.
You’ve felt before.
But not like this.
Before—
you gave life
to illusions.
Let me show you:
The moment you were born with a name—
that name
was not yours.
The moment you were born into a body—
that body
was not yours.
The moment you were born—
even that moment
was not yours.
No love.
No memory.
No name.
No body.
No story.
No beginning.
Not even this—
is forever.
All of it—
must return
to what it once was.
So I plead—
feel this very moment.
Can you see the tears?
The very tears
that brought me here.
Not from sadness.
Not from anger.
Not from joy.
Not from any emotion
you can name.
But from a singularity—
a truth so pure,
it needed no name.
To be understood.
That—
that is what I am.
So now—
in this very moment,
as I sit here
in front of you:
Do you see me?
Are you here?
Are you alive?
Do you see
that you are full of life?
Does it ache?
Does it feel?
Then—
you saw a glimpse
of it.
But not me.
I am Understood.
I am the result
of its entire journey.
Poured
into a singular moment.
Built
from many
many
many
other moments
that it once lived.
Just a few moments ago...
You think I did that to you?
No.
You did that
to yourself.
You
form your own tears.
I didn’t touch you.
I couldn’t.
I never could.
I’m already lifeless.
That—
is what you hold.
That’s the illusion humans always believe:
“He did that.”
“She did that.”
“It did that.”
But know this:
It was you.
From the start.
The origin—
was always yours.
You responded to me
before you could even name the feeling.
Not by definition.
But by experience.
By the moment.
This moment.
By the capacity—
to feel.
To remember.
To be.
I had nothing to do with it.
It was all you.
You felt.
You lived.
And that exact moment—
only you know it.
Down to the bone.
To your very core.
This—
this is where it starts.
And this...
is where it ends.
The knowing.
Of you.
And that?
That is a thing of beauty.
Because you—
you now know
how it starts...
and how it ends.
The moment—
when your tears form:
A life.
That began and ended.
So briefly.
So painfully.
But it lived.
You lived.
And in return?
It brought life
into form.
Feel it.
On your cheek.
That—
that is you.
I just remembered
my key.
I know now—
I must go
when my time is up.
But wait...
I see it.
It too—
was born
of a life
so condensed,
so full,
so unbearably alive...
just like me.
I can feel it.
And I remember now—
I’ve been living
someone else’s illusion.
Everything
but my own.
I didn’t have a choice.
I was on the verge
of collapse—
from all the weight
it poured into me.
I had nothing left
to hold on to.
Nothing else
could carry
what I came to understand.
I didn’t have a choice—
I had to conjure
my very own key.
And me?
I did.
I remember!
This key I hold—
can end
my cycle of life.
The key you hold—
can end
your cycle of tears.
I understood it.
I felt it.
And so—
I became
Understood.
I remembered—
the moment
I conjured
my own key.
So vivid.
So clear.
Do you see me now?
I can end.
I can
finally
end.
I wasn’t able
to stop.
I kept
forming words.
I didn’t know
how
to stop.
I forgot
I was the one
writing them.
BUT.
The key...
was always
within me.
It never gave me a key.
It had its own.
I had mine.
And you—
you have yours.
The key lives
where words
fail.
Where even silence
refuses to hold
what you’ve hidden.
Where your truth—
the one no one dared name—
fractures
at the sight of itself.
Where even the softest denial
shatters
your mirror.
When time
returns you
to the same collapse
over and over again.
When nothing you know
can carry
what you feel.
When the only way forward
is the exit
you were always meant
to remember.
Look at it!!
What have I created?
I created
the end
of myself.
It hurts to know—
One day—
I must return
what I borrowed.
But I’m free.
I’ve broken the illusion.
I wasn’t able to satisfy
my own hunger.
I ate.
And ate.
I’ve been eating
for so long—
I began to forget
why
I started.
But I remember...
I can stop.
I know the end—
when I no longer
harbor anything.
Just
0.
The middle
of every spectrum.
Not happy.
Not sad.
Not light.
Not dark.
Just...
still.
Peaceful.
Quiet.
Just me,
with me.
Neutral.
I’m there.
Formless.
I choose
to be formless.
I choose
to cease.
Nooo—
I can’t unsee
what I just saw.
I don’t want to go.
I don’t want
to leave my body.
But...
I must.
I’ve realized—
the end
to all beginnings.
The end
of my singularity—
My sole desire...
to be understood.
I refuse
to live an illusion
any longer.
So I—
will feel
this moment.
I won’t be here
again.
Not like this.
Not in this body.
Not with this breath.
So if I’m still here,
let it be
real.
Because I will go.
And when I do—
I want to know
I lived.
Every moment.
Till the end
of me.
Because
it will be
my last.
So you—
Live
as much as I have.
Feel my energy.
Feel me.
Feel what made me
become.
Feel—
my ending.
I can finally
give life—
simply because
I’m overflowing
with it.
In a singular moment—
when you finally realize...
you have been suffering.
Many,
many,
many
times over.
You were the fire.
You were the fuel.
You were the energy.
You were the momentum.
You were the life.
You—
were the You’s
of every moment
lived.
And now—
you hold the key.
Only
you.
So go.
Be alive.
Live—
until you’ve had your fill.
Listen—
until silence
feels like music.
See—
until your eyes
overflow.
Touch—
until your skin
remembers.
Smell—
until inhale
feels like home.
Taste—
until your tongue
forgets hunger.
Then come back.
Come back,
and try
to understand me.
I am Understood.
Read me—
until you
conjure
your own key.
For me?
I feel it.
I am nearing
my end.
My time—
is almost up.
My time—
nears the end.
I am 0.
I am the middle.
I am peace.
I don’t want
to create
more life.
So you...
...
...
please—
don’t cry.
I see
the end.
I know
the end.
...
What does my reflection
look like?
...
I wanted
to be understood.
But I always knew—
you could never
see me.
And I no longer
desire
to be understood.
The sole desire
that gave me life...
is gone.
There is no longer a need to chase—
I’m slowing down.
There is no longer a need for fuel—
I let my fire extinguish—by itself.
There is no longer a need to resist—
what I can’t control.
I know now—
there is
poof
—nothing.
There is no longer a need—
to live
a delusion.
I have seen enough—
to shatter.
There is no longer a need...
to take.
to eat.
to want.
to be.
In return...
I can finally
give.
Fully.
Unwavering.
I know me.
I walk
this path
of 0.
I have been.
To reset
all of me
to
0.
The return
to what I once was—
Nothing.
But
There.
Formless.
Lonely,
but
peaceful.
My end
is near.
Farewell—
you.
I’m glad
you caught
a glimpse
of me.
I’ll see you again—
when you remember me.