Maybe if I didn’t write everything with the weight of consecrating mankind with some brand-new revelation, I wouldn’t have been staring at this blank page for so long. I’ve written thousands of words before and I’ll probably write thousands more, so this particular piece doesn’t even matter that much. Yet, sitting with a nebulous blob of ideas in my lap, trying to distill and condense it into a few pages comes as a heavy task every time. Some people are scared of big things like the ocean or the desert, but the grand scale of things is almost always easier to deal with than trying to figure out a smaller serving. Yesterday, I was walking with sandals on when a little pebble slipped inside. I had probably kicked it up and it landed there without me noticing, and when I put my foot down for the next step, it hurt like hell. I thought I was going to bleed out on the street, so I checked my sole, only to see that it was barely scathed. It was still crazy how much it hurt because at times I like going barefoot on gravel, and the spread of all the little stones under my feet feel like a foot massage. But it somehow took only one singular stone to take me down, which illustrates my suspicion about humans having a complicated relationship with smaller instances of big things — I think this is rarely ever talked about.
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