The Word B

i could talk about the weather, but that would be silly. i could tell you about my day, but that would be boring. i could sit here and type nothing, but that would be dull. so why do i sit here at all, log on, and type? it is quickly becoming an addictive habit. it is something that is fulfilling this self-expressive need that i find rising up within myself. everytime i tap into it, i get this small sense of satisfaction. afterwards, i encounter a niggling pain, a greater desire for more. to stand up and scream, to be heard, to be seen, to be known. this is most definitely an addiction. this desire to create, and to share with the world. the desire to express me, in all my fanciful and not so fanciful forms. to become a public display of art, vulgarity, idea, passion, life, nothing, and everything. at times i feel like a mural and others a song or dance. however, it is difficult to translate this passion through words, but words are my medium. words are what i do. i try to draw, paint, play music, sing, but they do not compare to the power i feel from immersing myself in words. and so i sit here and type. i type for you and everyone and no one and only myself. i type for no other reason than i must. so i just keep doing it.
this is so much like life, we all just continually do things over and over again never thinking of why, we just live and do without reason, until we die. we know it feels good, so we just keep on doing it.