You don’t know who I am nor do I know who you are. This letter is not written for an intended purpose nor for anyone in particular. Each day passes and i wonder if the world is what it seems; if so life is not an exponentially unfolding adventure but a recurring fall through thin ice. If someone were to read this they would not look upon with joy or pleasure, but they could be reading this out of context. Maybe the said world is a different than this someone knows. Maybe it’s the underside of the one this someone knows. Maybe just maybe. Possibly, it’s the exact same one but through a different lens. Possibly, the reason for whoever’s discontent is directly attributed to this someone’s pleasure. If today ended and tomorrow began would yesterday be remembered with pain, or ecstasy? Oh the possibilities. Both are the opposite of apathy and neither are approached with this attitude. If someone were to tell one the meaning of life how would one react? The meaning is irrelevant. Someone’s reaction could define their life. If the meaning of life is to find something worth dying for, then the meaning of the death is to find something worth living for. Therefore, the cycle would never be broken unless someone failed. Failure is not worth dying for, success is. Deviation is success, therefore the game is broken.
Non-fiction is more concise. There is less detail about the superficial and aesthetic quality of the world around the character and more detail about the surroundings’ past and how the surroundings make the narrator feel. I also feel like there is less detail in non-fiction, so the story progresses at a quicker pace and the narrative is much less linear. In fiction, the story has moments of regression/tangents to describe the surroundings; non-fiction focuses on what is important to the author so the story skips around in a seemingly nonsensical way.