I love erasing everything I write.
There is this satisfaction I get from diving into the language just to wipe it away in the end.
I get this mystical sensation, where I can recognize that what I am, even what I imagine I will become, will be unrecognizable in time. Eventually, soul will transcend or ascend or evolve and what I think of as myself will be wholly new.
Mediums have said it about people who have crossed over, explaining that our ancestors and dearly departed don’t care so much about our daily lives, that they don’t hang around us while we’re doing the dishes (unless that was a personally significant receptor). They wait for moments of connection.
We grow. We learn. We wipe it all away.