There is, this idea of existence I forgot had existed, and now I've remembered. I wonder why I stay like this. Why? When it's out there, it doesn't wait for me, nothing waits for me, I need to catch it because it exists. It's beautiful and its indescribably various in the most jagged way. I think it exists because I've seen it, other than that it just remained animated, existing but without form or idea, no conception and nor realization that there was a part of me that could react to it. If it was there when I was born then it's amount is up to affectualiztion of its subconceptualized under-theorization.
Lasting Thought: These mountains exist for me.
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