You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You both like Writing.
Stranger: Hey!
You: hey
Stranger: How are you?
You: well
You: freewrite before?
Stranger: A few times, yes.
Stranger: Why do you ask?
You: want to now?
Stranger: Sure.
Stranger: But I will warn you.
Stranger: I'm young, restless, and jaded.
You: jaded it is
Stranger: And it may or may not be bullshit, which is always hard to tell when I expell things.
Stranger: What's your name
You: Adam
You: adamaero on the web usually
Stranger: Any subject you'd like?
You: how about you think of the subjects and I pick?
Stranger: Jazz
Stranger: Music
Stranger: Societal Bullshit
Stranger: Reflections
Stranger: The Moon
Stranger: Death
Stranger: I don't know.
Stranger: Ramblimgs
Stranger: Tie
Stranger: Time*
Stranger: I feel like a different person every morning.
Stranger: And it tends to throw me off guard.
Stranger: Sometimes I feel like one version of me chose a path that the other ones restlessly travel down.
Stranger: Subject?
Stranger: Hello?
You: Ogh, I thought you were starting
Stranger: No haha
Stranger: Sorry, I'm having an uncreative day.
You: different person
You: that one
Stranger: Which one?
You: change my mind: time
Stranger: Times have changed, and so have the seasons
Stranger: Rhymes have changed, and so have the reasons.
Stranger: They always say that it is time to relax.
Stranger: It should be time to react.
Stranger: And not, as tendencies seem to lean towards lazily, get trapped in a cycle
Stranger: of minutes and seconds
Stranger: of rhythmic ticks and tocks.
Stranger: Of caged-bird taps, souls anchored to the floor.
Stranger: Would you rather change time or let time change you?
Stranger: And yet, I feel changed by time moreso than I feel I affect it.
Stranger: I wither away, even now as I typetypetype keyboard chatter
Stranger: What a strange concept "now" is.
Stranger: Gone the moment after acknowledging its existence.
Stranger: It's a brief moment of actuality, of conscious realization of linear time.
Stranger: Of getting older, and younger, at the same time.
Stranger: Did, doing, will do.
Stranger: All blend like paint on the canvas of then
Stranger: But, you asked about my lack of creativity.
Stranger: This is what it feels like.
Stranger: As if my record has grown static
Stranger: I've collected dust in my grooves, and am unable to depict soundscapes under the needle of my thoughts
Stranger: I try to fight it, I do. I attempt to conquer time with a leap into the here-and-now.
Stranger: And sometimes, hell, it even works.
Stranger: Catapults me into another dimension of time.
Stranger: Another "now" moment, of possible creation.
Stranger: And yet, even this little figment of temporary motion will be trapped in some long-forgotten age.
Stranger: That's about all I have to say I guess.
Stranger: Numbness, teenage unsteadiness.
Stranger: Complaing, I suppose.
Stranger: I would prefer to be an old butcher in Brooklyn.
Stranger: Growing up through the great depression.
Stranger: Conditioned enough by war and politics to be grateful for any "now" moment of enough means.
Stranger: Smile to each customer with no guile.
Stranger: Just, what can I get for you today, fella?
Stranger: Blood-stained aprons.
Stranger: Content with things as they are, not as they should or could or have been.
Stranger: And I guess it all relates back to that, doesn't it?
Stranger: We are only given one moment.
Stranger: Now.
Stranger: That is all we will even tangibly posess.
Stranger: And if your feet and your heart are not is locational unison, where are you?
Stranger: in*
Stranger: Okay.
Stranger: That is all.
Stranger: I had a dream the other night,
Stranger: that I was standing on a dimly-lit stage, in front of an innumerable audience.
Stranger: They were staring. Waiting.
Stranger: I was being put on full display, every movement, every vocal inflection.
Stranger: And then someone stood up, walked up on the stage, and whispered something in my ear.
Stranger: Life is ceaslessly lonely.
Stranger: We will all never be more than an individual entity in a vast expanse.
Stranger: They want to see you.
Stranger: But first you have to not see them.
Stranger: And so I stared into myself, and performed without external distraction.
Stranger: And that was the only way to put on a show.
Stranger: You have to delve into the only resource you are given.
Stranger: Yourself.
Stranger: Know your depths and your fallible facets.
Stranger: And then I also wonder.
Stranger: Do two people ever really converse?
Stranger: Perhaps people are just talking to themselves, mutually.
Stranger: And they find gaps in their closed-off perspectives, and become one joined universe in and of themselves.
Stranger: People are their own spectrum of perspective, don't you think?
Stranger: Socializing is just orbiting other worlds.
Stranger: Unless I'm overly- and under-romanticizing things.
Stranger: Are you there?
Stranger: Hello?
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