I Will Not See For all the Mysteries of the World
I Will Not See











For all the Mysteries of the World thinking stories
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firexqueenx
firexqueenx Queen of Fire ( I'm also a Wattpader )
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
My toes scrunch together, collecting tiny bits of the unknown ground. My ears collect the sound waves of the unknown water, slapping against the unknown ground. My lips, tasting the salty unknown breeze, running faster and faster across my mouth, but my eyes, they are both shut down, seeing nothing but the back of my eyelids.

I Will Not See For all the Mysteries of the World

My toes scrunch together, collecting tiny bits of the ground, the unknown ground. My ears collect the sound waves of the unknown water, slapping against the unknown ground.

My lips, tasting the salty unknown breeze, running faster and faster across my mouth. My nose smells the unknown scent. The scent is hardest to describe, almost like living salt water.

My eyes, they are both shut down, seeing nothing but the back of my eyelids.

I hate it but know it’s better this way, because it will leave me wondering what this would have been like for my eyes. My eyes are given too much credit.

They spoil everything for you, make it too easy to leave the excitement of life. When you see something, you can immediately know if it’s refreshing, or rotten. Spicy, or bland. Scratchy, or smooth.

But this time, I have to discover it for myself. The setting, I do not know. The mood, I can feel.

If this site stays hidden, I will either be tortured wondering what this looked like, or I will be thinking what I thought this looked like, and life will be never more boring. I cannot see.

I will not see. Because if I do, I will know what this is like, and there will be no more wondering in my life. Wondering what this looks like, what I could do here.

But I will keep myself thinking. Thinking and coming up with ideas. For that’s the point of life. Wondering what the unseen would be like after being seen.

If I do not see and leave the unseen, I will be two things.

I will either eternally keep thinking what the unseen was like, making it what I want, or I will be tortured until after death, wanting to know what the unseen wanted to look like, not what I want it to look like.

It’s been stated twice, I know. I realize that life won’t give you chances this many times. It’s my last visit here, and I will never know what this looked like.

But it’s for the best, because that’s the point of mystery.

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