Most of the times, I don’t know what I’m doing,
I don’t know how I got there,
I don’t know how I do the things I do,
I don’t know what is going on in my head,
I just don’t know,
The only thing I do know is that I don’t know.
I am a walking contradiction of life.
I love being organized,
I love planning every single second of my life,
While, fully well, being aware of the fact that,
Things happen only when they’re meant to happen.
I love having things under my control,
I celebrate when I no longer have the burden of having things under my control,
I love spending time with another person, their thoughts, their presence,
I sigh in relief, at the end of the day, when I’m home alone,
I love minding my own business, not having anyone to disturb my flow,
But I also expect the world to stop rotating when I’m breaking down.
All I want is to be settled, comfortable, and grounded,
All I want is to be free, grow in the bubbling discomfort, and fly,
Fly so high, so close to the sun, that I see Icarus falling, from up above,
And even then, as my skin burns and my bones melt, a part of me would wonder,
What would the ground feel like?
The grass is always greener on the other side,
That doesn’t mean I’m unhappy on my side,
But this small wonder of,
“Oh, where would I be in life if I did that other thing?”
The plethora of the what-ifs,
The fear of not having what it takes,
The possibility of not achieving my full potential,
Would forever haunt me, every second I breathe.
I am a walking contradiction of life,
And I don’t know what to do about it.