Losing all hope gives it to me. Knowing that this expance won't change, that nothing will occure. Knowing that you can drive for hours and still experience the same thing. Knowing where I'll be in 20 years. Anything can happen, and yet it's all the same. So many paths and choices, but how different are they from one another?
This town is miles and miles of concrete and street lights and housing and liquor stores and video stores. Each one tells a different story, but each is only a variation the central theme. We can't help it. This structure is the necisary evil that makes our lives possible. The subtle variations can be deceptive. This blog exists within the confines of that concrete ocean and yet is invisible to most of it's inhabitants in a coporeal sense. It has made my thoughts more transmittable than most anyone else, no matter how great their IQ's or communication skills. It exists physically only as a code on a device no bigger than my hand somewhere thousands of miles away, yet it's life is here, in this ocean. Our thoughts, our ideas, can be transmitted from this expance to others. Each of us now are tiny conduits in a massive network, one that was made possible by and created by what is now the second layer of that network.
This is an ocean of finite possibilites, of which we've barely tapped. You are only limited in one ocean, but there are others, the number of which may not be finite. Losing hope gives it to me.