Ceaseless. Consuming. Binding.

The aggravating part about putting words down on a page is the relentless frustration of not yet knowing what it is you so desperately have to say.

My mind runs and spins; I persist for miles, but only ever in circles. I live in constant fear of not feeling enough on some days- while on others- I’m plagued by an immeasurable weight of emotion.

There’s something to be said here. There’s a hunger, an inkling, an insatiable hole somewhere within me. Sometimes– most times, I sit and stare at the world before me and wonder at the perplexing possibility of this characteristic being singular to my soul.

And while this may seem mystical and maybe even mysterious, I generally feel isolated. So much of my being relishes the thought of being liberated from the constraints of expectations, commitments, emotional and physical ties.

But there’s another part of me; a quieter, smaller, but much more powerful part. It aches and moans and pulses. It patiently sits and waits to be known and seen and understood.

I’m wondering now, how these two opposing worlds exist and dwell within the same body. Within the same mind. I wonder which one wins. I wonder which one I draw from. Which one I nourish. Which one I starve.

I’m bound by two demons. One: keeping me safe and far from suffocation. From consistency. From the prison of other humans. I keep running. I keep moving. My head keeps spinning and my life feels light. Fleeting. The other: nudging me toward hope. Whispering to me soft melodies of truths I want to believe. Repeating: you’re more than desired. You’re more than what you can give. You can be seen. Known. Understood.

Can these two worlds thrive together? Can I have both?

Desired and known. Restricted and freed.

I persist for miles, but I only ever go in circles.


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