Something I came up with after listening to some music. Original spark is listed at the top, but eventually I turned to another piece by the same user: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v29KVjUXiS8

It seemed rather more fitting after the first two.

There's maybe one or two people on this entire planet aside from me who could even begin to guess what this is in reference to.

Maybe if you saw some of my work elsewhere, you could start to guess. All the clues are there, if you knew what to look for, they're not terribly hidden.

But maybe it's better this way? Cryptic. Enigmatic. A puzzle so loosely hidden that it's almost obvious, but the knowledge of what it means known by so few, so as to be impossible to guess.

All I'll say is every writer loves what they make, or ought to. Some find it easier to let go, to let their beloved ideas be destroyed, others, like myself, cling to them, loving the idea for its merit or for its meaning. Myself, I see facets of myself in so much of my work. It took the better part of eight years to reconcile the first and greatest of my problems. And it took eleven to lay the greatest ideas I have ever birthed to rest, though, two remain. Eternal. Dying, but never forever. Yet trapped in a cycle that will never end, even once the memory of the start is all but forgotten, as if it never existed at all.

I will also say that this work is somewhat in order, though that would be meaningless to every person on this planet. But it's a bit of a nod to these ideas, listed largely in the order they were born. Maybe they're listed in the order they were destroyed?

In a hundred years, when my bones, too, lie dusty and forgotten, perhaps burnt long ago in some dirty furnace, will these ideas still exist? Are their existence dependent on mine? Or will they live on without me, even if no other comes to wrap their arms around them? Is a forgotten idea really gone? Or does it exist, existing in a perpetual state of non-existence, existing simply because it once was something, and energy can never be destroyed, making non-existence a physical state? Because, if you think about it, for something to not exist, it had to at one point. Because if it never did, it can't not exist- you can't have shadows without light. If light never was, there would be no shadows to have ever known about, therefore they would have never not existed. There is no word, no description for what never was, because, quite simply, it never was. Nobody, nothing, has ever considered it in any way- known to man or otherwise. It isn't there in any capacity to define as never having been. An idea never realized still existed, and because it existed, it now doesn't. If it was never considered at all in any way, it could never have not existed, because it never existed to become nonexistent.

If there was never any light in the Universe, there would have never been any darkness either, because it requires light to be in deficiency- but light was never there to be deficient. There wouldn't even be nothing there, because nothing is a concept, too. Nothing is a lack of something, and you need something to lack, to have nothing. No word in any language that ever existed, exists now, nor ever will exist, can define this; any definition, by definition, requires something to exist in at least a conceptual way, in order to lack itself. And that's kind of comforting, sometimes. To know we'll never know everything, because to really know everything, we'd have to know this. But this is inherently unknowable, because if you know what lies in this, then it is known, and therefore isn't part of this anymore.

One day I'll die. And eventually, I'll be forgotten. So will you. So take a moment to be thankful for that. No matter how much you think you screwed up, no matter how openly you've done so, no matter how many people know you've done so, they'll die too. And they'll be forgotten too. Eventually, our good deeds will be forgotten too. We'll cease to exist, forgotten by everyone, never to be rediscovered. Sounds depressing, yeah? You could say it is, but I say, it means there's nothing to be afraid of. You can screw up as much as you like and the board will be wiped clean one day. Then you'll truly be at peace.

If you've somehow followed along without your head exploding, regardless of if you actually can follow along the reasoning, thank you. I may never know who you are. You may never see me again. Our paths may never cross, only come near, and than branch away. But for a few moments, regardless of if you could understand or not, you tried. And that's all that matters. That you try. Don't fret success or failure. You won't be around to see the true results of either. Just try, try as much as you can and don't worry too much. Just take pride that you tried, even if it's hopeless and you know it. It's you taking a stand, defiant. Being yourself. Trying for you.

Once again, thank you, for suffering along with me as I, too, try. Try to define the undefinable as I ramble on about something I don't- and can't- even fully understand. And that's okay. Because I tried.

Goodnight, and thank you once more.