June 1, 2013 by musehick
The prolific, what drives them? I am sure with some it is purely the speed at which they think and wish to communicate their ideas to others, and I know there is something about that with me too, but there is something else.
I have always felt that I am living on borrowed time and that I shouldn’t waste a moment with inactivity and I should write it all down and get it out there before the candle I am burning at both ends meets in the middle and I snuff out. Sure, I have belief now that sees me, the ‘I’ of the equation, spinning out past the limits of the physical body, but there are things I want to complete in this part of the game that I can’t easily pick up in another time.
Mortality and legacy are the two scariest words. I have no family any more to take stewardship of my words, and my confidence in whether they can stand in their own right and demand of someone that they be cared for, has waned. So I make do and fill time with writing more of them to bolster the effort. Don’t worry I am not shuffling off any time soon, but being solidly locked into being alone for the rest of my life, an eventuality I have no reality on being able to escape, I foresee myself sinking into some anonymous oblivion where the most I may represent in some people’s lives is kind of a negative space that they can’t quite qualify but which I once used to occupy. Thrown stones sink.