I want to go far away and not look at what is waiting for us. This is exactly why I will go far far away from the distance.

I am going up to what is waiting for us, chatting with it and coming back to tell you what it said.

I'll be the second rebranding - who knows maybe I rebrand this story several times.

Like why keep NiceTeal in position of control if I can just go and do something else and have fun? I am just a dude trying to have fun with words right? So now we are getting somewhere. Ok so lets set the scene.

I am alone in a dark night, the moon shines and it is a bit windy.

It is cold, but my body is warm, the warmth leaves my body into the all encompassing cold.

Between the warmth and cold is a playful little spirit, mixing warm and cold.

"Hello. I am... a writer. Can you tell me what you want?", I ask the spirit.

I notice how the spirit pulls the words, it moves my body, it pushes all things around.

The spirit communicates only through actions and not through words.

It is an ancient being, time itself. It rustles the leaves of a great tree, it pulls everything apart. It breaks, it mixes, it moves, it writes, it writes these words.

And it escapes, it anthopomorphises its own concept through myself. It is reality itself.

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Reality itself is what it wants.

"I haven't been really wanting reality. I guess you are too strong to escape from huh..." I mutter, but I am alone in the night. There is no one here.

No spirit, no ghost, no tiny little human tugging heat and cold around and yet the heat leaves me. Is it better that way?

At the day I was born, there was no god. God did not see who I am.

God did not say "be productive and give me your money".

I wish god were truly be there, demanding my obedience, giving me true rules to follow.

But what is truth if not the little spirit of reality?

I spoke to it and it answered through myself. That has to mean nothing.

Why is it that I can see reality only through the lense of glasses of myself?

I guess because I can only be myself, as long as I live.

I have sensors, parts of myself that are changed by the outside and they form myself.

I am accumulated outside, I have become the shape of more compressed into a being.

And that is how I was born.

And how do I persist? I consume the shapes of others, I consume the light, I consume the outside and offer my insides to the readership in form of light coming from their monitors.

Consume my inner being, consume my thoughts!

And be happy as I have found my joy in writing again.