• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 07

A Brief Moratorium

Why is all such a maze? Why does all have to be always a puzzle? Can I not simply relax and let myself breathe?

Well, I have tried to. So I shall try again. I will try to try again to try again, and maybe I shall then answer myself. That will be delightful. Oh yes, it will surely be of much delight.

But what in the case I forget what the question was? Did I really ask just a question or was there more than one? Am I simply thinking too much over what my questions could mean in lieu of thinking about the matter at hand? What is the damn matter at hand? Is the matter at hand to know what the matter at hand is? Or was?

Well, if there was a matter at hand there is a matter at hand at now. If, of course the previous matter at hand was not solved. Was it solved? If it was not solved then there is the previous matter at hand and then the current matter at hand. So really, there is not a matter at hand as much as there are two different matters at hand. But are they really any different at all? They still seem to be only questions.

The matter at hand seems all-together-different now than the one before it.

I need to stop; this was to be a brief moratorium. Sure, a brief moratorium, but from what? Why does it have to be a brief moratorium when I am about to write? So if this moratorium was to consider writing, and it is such, then it was not a moratorium at all.

I see I have a tendency to get fixated on simple words. I shall stop my fixation now. But does that end my moratorium? If the fixation ends my moratorium then the moratorium was simply a fixation, and thus not a moratorium at all. Why cannot one fixate and morate at the same time?


A Brief Moratorium

That is a word made up, you fool. There is simply no chances of your writing having an effect on the people you expect such gibberish to read. They will read a sentence, have a laugh and go back to doing what they were with their own matters at hand without any thoughts given and definitely, none taken from your pitiable state. You expect your voice to be heard? Expect it first to be read.

It is the most appalling conundrum with you always in its middle, when you know with certainty the truth, yet you look for Truth like a fish attracting ITSELF towards the bait. Learn before it is too late. Do you follow?

I refuse to say goodbye; refuse to not say hello. Never mind, maybe I do not follow. But I follow that I do not so it must mean that I do. I have considered myself well here. Maybe I simply should sit and not look elsewhere.

My moratorium is ending.