Writing without knowing

It all feels like nothing more then a dream, a distant memeory of which I am part of.Something which is intangible unknowable.

everyone views the world in their own perspective, can all of these views be correct, can any be wrong

it often drives one mad to think about how another person has such an entirely different idea about things

the thought racing in your mind, how can one live in such a confusing place

what do i believe in this world

if no one can collectively agree on anything

a point which can be endlessy argued and debated against

a childish notion, for sure

I do not know anything at all, as intangible and as unknowable as the stars in the distant sky,i keep up the pretense of knowledge to hide the fact that there is no me to exist in the first place

I am nothing but a meaningless adjective in a book, one of the many blades of grass on the ground

and there is nothing else to say at the end of all this other then a heartfelt goodbye and a slow disappearance