A Strange Story

Okay, yesterday I was walking through my house thinking of things to do. After meticulously stepping on every available spot in the house, over and over, I still had not thought of anything to do. So, I did it again. Which is not possible because I was doing it over and over, so there is no beginning or end to meticulously stepping on every available spot in the house, over and over. Nevertheless, I did it again.

After doing it again, I still had not thought of anything to do. So I went outside. I took one step onto the porch and stopped dead. I then proceeded to take in every single visible detail. Across the street was a yard. The yard had a fence about six meters from the road. The fence is wood. The top of the planks are absolutely flat; they do not have any angles. The wood is faded but the planks are not warped in the least. I do not know what the yard is composed of because it is covered in snow. The snow is about one and a half feet deep. At the edge of the road is a dirty berm of snow. I do not know how it got there by a visible analysis. The snow that the berm is comprised of looks lumpy. I follow the perfect edge of the fence to the left until it meets the edge of a yellow house. The yellow color is not so bright that I have to avert my eyes, but it is not so dark as to absorb all of the light from the sun. The house has two windows on the front. The house does not appear to have two stories, but it is possible that there is an attic. The door is reddish-brown color. To the left of the door, about a foot above the door knob is a black mailbox- before I can examine the mailbox closely, I am distracted by the absence of movement. I see no people. There are no birds or bugs of any species moving through the air. There is not even the sway of a branch. The snow is still mid fall. There is no disturbance in the air caused by sound waves. The world is still.

I contemplate Existence and my place in it at this moment. The Existence is stilled. I am not stilled. If I am part of Existence, I must be stilled. But, I am not stilled. Existence must be in entropy. I am an exact contradiction to Existence, if I am part of Existence. But in order for Existence to follow its own laws, I must not be part of Existence because I am not still. I contemplate my new found identity. I am not part of Existence. It seems that I have created my own Existence outside of the realm of Existence. I can make my own laws. I command my own Existence. Now that I have come to this realization, I can continue life as it was. I no longer have to contemplate Existence because it is my own. It no longer matters because I am in complete control. I don't ever have to think about it again: this is my first new law.

The world begins to move again. It must have been waiting for me to come to some realization. But I haven't... oh well.

I begin to walk down the street.