revisionist

you’re so far from here,
but i can feel your presence, my dear,
shaking me from the boundaries and into thoughts
of us not having to be missed, but right on time for

never delete. revise, revise, revise, through giving yourself enough time to separate from the thought.

that’s what humans KNOW and PRACTICE every day, but don’t really employ (at all) as often– revising through time, not through repetition and brute force. give something to the world. let what you’ve given mature enough to tinge with rust and brittled corners. once you’ve forgotten what you’ve done, and had time to revise it in your head (there is the greatest space we have and the most time), proceed to revise a copied version. keep the original, so you can do the same thing later. with this method, you will know yourself more than a moment in time you witnessed.

humans never respond the same way– we evolve thought and practice the art of augmentation, ignoring repetition unless it’s the most mundane sub-tasks to our lives. we don’t really let ourselves become overburdened with the fact that our days are all the same, lined up and examined as though they were different– hell, we’d even find ourselves saying a day is better than the last, despite it being the same as today. our hearts follow a course and feel it’s more than the everyday we try to ignore– we never realize we’re doing the same thing until we look back and ask ourselves, “what the fuck was i doing for so long?” it’d be nice to be able to push back the end of a sentence to where it fits and where it doesn’t interrupt an otherwise productive day. but, we must end everything eventually. we must begin to build ourselves as more than who we were– by picking out the smallest subsets of our lives, as with a microscope, and presenting without examination to a crowd.