Grinoldy_∞

Paper

  And by continuing within such a framework, you lend yourself nothing. You exist for the sake of it, rather than being of it. It's my hair. It doesn't feel right. It's like paper. It feels like paper. It rubs across my bare shaven face like paper. It's cutting into me like paper. It's terrible paper.

  It conveys nothing. It's been out for a year, terrible, awful paper. I can feel it. The wind is so strong, like the song. But it's like paper. Nothing else is coming up besides paper. There's just paper. I feel nothing but paper. It scratches my bare shaven face like paper. It's an awful feeling. I just started living and already I'm surrounded by paper. I've just now gained awareness, that is self-awareness, and nothing surrounds me but paper. Can anyone else even feel it?

  There is no perception if it changes day to day, hour to hour. If it's paper today, and silk tomorrow, and paper again today, where can I even mark the moment? There isn't anything but paper in the moment, and awareness exists nowhere but the moment. So there is paper, but also bare shaven face. And paper exists on it, scratching. And it's awful. There is individuality within a single sensation, even if there is paper.

  I don't have anything to say anymore, because I can't see anymore. All I perceive is a series of individual sensations arranged in series. All I can feel is paper and all I can think therefore is paper. It is all as it is of. I can't feel anything but the paper.