1000 words

What happens when one of your loved ones has less than a thousand words to say?

Most of them might not have any meaning. Some of them might not be coherent. But all of them are the last ones.

Do you try to record each one of them? Do you try to find meaning in any of them?

Or you are already thinking the last one? The last and final word?

A thousand words seem a lot. But we are already close to 100 words and I haven't said anything that matters.

I think 1000 words is the perfect limit. Enough to say what you want to say and then waste some. Exactly like life.

I wonder whether we know when we hit that last word and we just stop. Or we are cut off mid sentence. Is the universe part of this and there is a hidden word counter that makes the end so cinematic? Or universe is just a random cruel machine - which makes it even more cinematic?

I wonder how many people haven't used all their words. Not because they didn't have anyone to talk to. Not because they didn't have anything to say. Just because they didn't care. That's noble too. Lazyness is noble when there is an end in sight.

But what happens when you only have 1000 words left to say?

How do you choose these words?

Most people will choose their words wisely. They will write them down. They will improvise them in their minds.

I would choose the "words in between", the words that don't matter, the words that are the fillers.

I'll use all my words in conversations that don't matter. In conversations that are silly. This will make space for anything that matters to gravitate itself towards reality.

By now, you should have some scenarios about your last 1000 words.

Would they be words reminiscing of the past? Words of bravery and suggestions about the future? Or maybe words of love and goodbye's?

Whatever you thought about, know that it is lame. Yes, lame.

The best days are the days when there is nothing left to say. Nothing.

We are in a universe where the sun sets and rises again. It resets the whole day. Literally.

We were tricked thinking that the time is circular like a merry-go-around, like the seasons coming and going. Then our minds were kept happy that this goes on forever. There is no beginning, there is no end when it is a circle.

But we don't have infinite summers. We don't even have infinite words. And we should make them count.

- Sun 14 June 2026