Notes from my diary

I'm a thinker
I observe the world,  I love it just the way it is
beauty, ugly, darkness, light
I realize how poor the language is, language is not for thinkers
you have to play with the words, and the words play with you.
To describe black you need to have white.
I'm  bending, rolling,  spinning, digging, turning everything upside down and inside out.
I'm stopping all the time, my tempo is different
I have time to do the same thing in a million ways.
words are way to simple to describe the  beautiful storm constanly going on inside.
a storm but  so peaceful, heavy and light
I write to much about so much that it's nothing.
my words have no meaning, no perpuse, I just write what I see
life has no truth,  no meaning.  I't's a sight, just a great view
nothing is black, nothing is white, It's a battle between everything.
Constant fight between light and dark. The battle is the ballance. no one ever wins,
It's just always changing, switching sides.
What I'm  I trying to say?
Nothing, I'm talking about what I see. Nothing is said.
My truth is my fairytale.
Big, small, nothing, everything, health, sickness, sun, moon, the city, the nature, right, wrong, love, hate, stopping, moving, see, blind.
Do I want to enter the game? Yes, some days. Today I'll rather  just sit and observe.