Lost in Expression

Who cares to read what I write? Who cares to know my thoughts? Who cares what is with me? Why express myself? Why do we all want to express ourselves.

Perhaps life is about perception and not expression. Sitting and taking in. Absorbing. Observing. Trying to understand without judging. But it all looks the same. The same looks. The same clothes. The same talk. Nothing profound? Should I be paying more attention? Or do I accept that what I’m seeking to perceive is not here? That what feelings arise are of no bearing?

What changes when the thought of irrelevance consumes me? That I’m out of context? That I don’t belong? What is this belonging? To country and flag or at a species level?

Perhaps I have too much ego and think myself so different but surely if I wasn’t what I write would resonate with a few mortals? The wrong audience. The wrong city. The wrong country. The wrong continent. The wrong planet. And perhaps the wrong universe.