I live my life in Word documents. Sentences destroyed as quickly as they are formed, displayed on a blinding screen. Times New Roman thoughts tapped out, creating an image in my brain that I am left undecided about. Stray paragraphs abandoned in folders in disarray, collecting dust and luring in spiders.
Half-finished novels. Short stories. Poems. Rants. One line thoughts. 2 paragraphs. Quotes. Lists. Life.
Everything jumbled up together, vulnerable and uneasy - with the potential to be wiped away from their hard drive home. Files of backed up material, nearly lost in the great abyss of pixels.
Should I live my life on paper? Or would it still get lost? Under beds and bookshelves; behind the back of cupboards. Would my thoughts be just as likely lost then?