The Contradictions of Complexity

I get tired. I get tired of being seen and not known. I get tired of not being seen and not known. I get tired of being tired. I got tired. I got exhausted. Then I get tired again.

I get tired of feeling lonely. I share a space. The loneliness passes. I get tired of sharing space. I get tired of feeling lonely in my space.

I crave being alone. I crave being with others. I crave the solitude, the silence, the absolute quiet. But I fear this that I crave.

I long to have a voice. I long for the voice to be known. I long to speak a truth. I have a truth. In the stillness. Yet I cannot give it a voice, though I long for it to be allowed.

I cry alone. I cry silently. I cry heaving sobs of silence and pain. I cry inward and mask outward. I cry.

I scream on the inside. I rage at my internal pain. I question my legitimacy to feel this way.

I feel my breath quicken. I feel my breath taken. I feel the gasp of pain.

I feel it niggle. I feel it slam right in. I feel its crushing pressure. I feel it’s overwhelm. I feel nothing. I feel numb. I feel apart. I am adrift.

I am broken. I am healed. I am aware. I am nothing. I am everything. I feel it all. I am this never-ending. I never was. I am gone forever. I was always here.

Disconnected. Connected. Confused and clear