Do you ever feel insignificant?
Think about a pencil, for a good minute.
An orange, number two, sharpened pencil. The tip is sharper than you could possibly ever imagine. But that's beside the point.
Think about that. That pencil. Laying perfectly still.
It breaks in half.
No one knows who broke it. Maybe it was you. Maybe it was me. You'll never get the answer. It doesn't matter who. It's just broken.
One half of the halves gets split into a half.
Then one half of the halves of the halves gets broken into a half.
It just keeps diving itself by twos.
You don't know how to feel, do you? You feel like it's your fault, considering you're watching it with your eyes. But it's not, don't worry.
The pencil is at its last seam. It cannot be broken anymore. It's the final pencil molecule.
You can't see it. You don't know where it is. You're blind to the subjective that it's still even there. You can't lie about it. You know it.
You feel like this pencil is gone. You feel like it's always been gone. It didn't matter what size it was. To you, it was probably the dumbest pencil in the entire world. But you're missing the point.
This pencil is the representation of your hope. You feel insignificant. This pencil ‘looks’ insignificant.
No matter how much it gets broken down, there always will be something small. You over look it, because it's so blind to your naked eye. You don't understand it now, but you will soon. Because one day everyone and everything will soon become space dust, so when we become as small as we can get, we'll truly understand what it means to be small, like a shattered pencil.
Then you'll get it. I promise.
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I wrote that last night. We can talk about it, if you want. I dunno.
Pencils.
