I am split . Since consciousness grew and insights emerged, I find myself cut in half . Traversing life, I exist in control and liquefied at the same time. My hands stubbornly grasp the present and my feet are firmly planted on today's ground. Here it is happy. Here it is safe. But my head is minutes, days, years ahead of my limbs. Where my hands are steady and fisted, my head shifts through pages after pages of meanings, death, or simply of being there, wherever that may be. Where my feet casually strolls , my head races towards every "what ifs" By design , they are a unit. By design they are parts and I am their sum. Lately it has not been like such. Lately, it is all equations and rhetorics a mile a minute. Lately , I am nothing but stiff joints. So by the time my hands decides to cooperate and write, my head already convinced itself that there is truth to this claim; life is a circus. Every tightrope situations, cannonball dreams, that despicable feeling of being fierce yet caged, and the hopeful idea of stealing the show with daring grace. Yet, my world is this makeshift tent, where I am still learning how to ride my unicycle. Balance you see, has always been my challenge. From walking on my stubby one-year old legs to straining for the better part of my life between letting it all out and letting it all silently go. Practice is a must because falls are frequent. I trust that my safety net awaits but I know fully it could only hold on for so long. So I thread lightly with my earplugs secured to block out the rest of the world, because sometimes a simple "No !" can displace me. Still, I relish every chance I get to honestly tell about my anatomy and cannonball dreams. In this space at least, I am a complete story.
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