The Horizon was my playdate with philosophy—a space where I let my thoughts run free, untethered by research or rules. It was where I explored the kind of questions that, once answered, put your mind at ease. The ones that stretch beyond time—past, present, and future—giving you a better sense of the world and your place in it.
This section felt different from the rest. It wasn’t about pain or healing. It was about curiosity. Wonder. The thrill of thinking beyond what I had always known. And yet, during the final edits, I hesitated. Were these pieces too far out there? Would they even make sense to anyone else?
But then I remembered rule number one: I was writing for me.
At the time, these words were a healthy part of my growth. They reflected a new way of thinking, a new mental frame. I had learned to let thoughts flow without needing to make sense of them right away. To observe my own mind with fascination instead of resistance. To be okay with whatever landed on the page.
The first draft of Nobody’s Words was 90,000 words. By the time I had cut and refined it, just over 30,000 remained. And The Horizon was a section I was proud to keep intact.
I’ll be the first to admit—there’s some creative thinking at play here. But that’s what makes it exciting. Rereading these words now, I’m grateful I didn’t hold back. If they open a reader’s mind, shift a perspective, or spark a creative path within someone else, then they’ve done exactly what they were meant to do.
At its core, The Horizon is an invitation—to think freely, to question openly, and to enjoy the adventure of wandering within your own mind.
Even if only for the entertainment of your own wondering soul.