I’m losing so many things and I have only my pride to blame (but why can’t you make the effort as well?), I’m yearning for the other side of paradise where consequential events happen just slightly beyond the realm of conscious control (but this side is so irrevocably safe, secure, and is the shortest way to the sea), I do know I desire the things that will kill me in the end (why am I still consciously still chasing after it?), I don’t know where to draw the line of contentment (is there ever, where I’m not even settling for anything now?)
I know where I want to go (but I have to realise there isn’t always tomorrow), I really want to strike the fine balance between everything I know, everything that I really want (why do you seem to do it so easy?), and I have this thing where I want to be different (but yet I do know I am always the same, unchanged, stagnant), and why is it so fast when I know it’s not going to ever last?
Where I know I want a God to lean on (but how is that probable when I disagree with so many things on so many different fundamental levels?), where I keep questioning but I never actually get a satisfactory answer, where self-exploration sounds terribly vain and contrived and entitled, where I’m struck between two separate things that are actually in essence the same. Sometimes I wish I could just shut up and accept the things as they are, measure for measure. Where I can learn to see past the intricacies of the cardinal poetry, cease to read between the lines and look at the bigger picture instead. I do see the blessings in everyday things — be in the ochre dusky sunset of faint yellows and twiny oranges, the paleness of the blue sky reflected upon the musky surface of the sea, the pelt of raindrops against skin, the briny breeze that sweeps my hair off its ends and into my side.
These discussions are kept going with different people who offer different opinions and different lifestyles and different eyes and I don’t know (for the longest time) how to ever decide for myself.