Well, I’ve figured that I’m here and might as well ask why. No, not electronically, even though I am swish swishing and click clicking, but physically, flesh fleshing and blood blooding. I’m here, as you might have ingeniously observed, not out of choice or desire but out of sheer necessity.
That’s silly to claim, is it not? I’d like to think I’m necessary for something, but for what? Is it necessary for me to think I’m necessary for the sake of preserving my sanity? But is my sanity a necessity? For what? For whom? For how long? For material or immaterial existence? Can a response to one contradict a response to the other? One thing seems certain, one is seemingly necessary for the other, but, perhaps, not the other for the one.
Perhaps I should work backward and ask what is necessary? And then to ask how could I become necessary? For, as it stands, it’s a silly declaration. However, it must mean something, mustn't it?.
This should create considerable anxiety for you as well, perhaps hives, dark spots, sleepless nights, illiteracy as to convince yourself you have not read this, because I’m unsure of why you are here and whether you are necessary.
you are necessary to write. I am necessary to read and enjoy.
ReplyDeleteYou're necessary to smile. I'm necessary to receive and smile back!
We are necessary to help one another find meaning for our existence.
that's a good way of looking at it Aso, my sole reader! Keep smiling, and I'll smile back, that might justify my existence lol.
ReplyDeleteOh, this is all so wonderful. I don't visit your blog nearly enough, Z.
ReplyDelete