In my mind, I’ve seem to run out of room. My head is full of pointless thoughts, those such as dust being an analogy and/or metaphor of love. It’s everywhere, and we all just wipe it away. In a way such like existentialism, it is just there, spread upon my desk, either i don’t comprehend its existence, or i realize, and brush the dust into the air, and eventually disappearing from actuality’s grasp of reality. Soaring into a so-called “oblivion” which is an inconceivable concept, for no one can grasp the idea of nothingness. Paradox. Ha. The dust eventually falls and becomes a part of conscienceness and joins our dull reality once again for a split moment in time, until on the carpet and again completely and optically vanishing. When really like love, even if we can’t see it, its existence is not denied. It does not lack, it has substance, even without seeing. Disproving the well known saying “seeing is believing”, false. Believing in what you cannot see, or seeing into something that you cannot see. This is just. I believe in love, and i see into its nothingness. In its hollowed warmth, I am alive.