MountainScribe

There is an ocean of words and I often find myself adrift in them, lapping up over my dingy, seeping through the deteriorating planks of my life. I embrace them and try to make sense of them, all in hopes to organize my soul and share those pieces with others.

I want people to perhaps feel something from squalls of discontent to the calm currents that shimmer the moonlight off the waters of my life. I do not write for vanity. I only write to outlet the feelings of the mysterium termendum that I seem to experience when I open my eyes to the world I never asked to come into.

I wish I was only born as a word.