Words are my chore.

Unlike a picture which is said to convey many times the length of this passage, it feels more natural for me to write. With thousands of main ideas to ponder upon, only one to choose and try make an excerpt out of. To put down the various flowing thoughts through my mind and string them together with a coherent structure understood by most people also feels like an art. To feel doubt about the content and consistency of the format, yet proceed anyway.

To be able to play with grammatical structure, then create confounding statements that come together well in context. Not to boast a higher understanding of the everyday but to exercise the mental healthiness and mastery of a language. To take small jabs at other linguists and storytellers because it can evolve a language. Whether an acronym or alliteration, it comes as a tool of language to convey our thoughts. Pretending as though our eloquent work were as original as Homer or Shakespeare. Drawing inspiration from music or animation, drafting a forest of statements as though it were a real environment to navigate.

You can call it long-winded and pointless, but you did make the effort to read this and understand it. Even as a shared passing thought, a way to peer into the mind of another; it is a group of letters into words and finally a message. One that has mistakes because of impossibly perilous punctuation that proceeds to pester the procurer. Despite its lack of direction, one that the author feels a happy amount gratitude towards his audience for reading.