Who am I? Am I in control of myself? Or I am just a shadow of myself or a fragment of who I should be. Am I the salt or the water; Am I me or you; one of many or one of few? Am I a thought, a perception, dream or a nightmare? Or am I a closed book deserted in the clustered bag or on a shelf in the library.
I have spent a lot of days overthinking about it. Putting my mind under pressure and trying to figure it out. But the more I thought, the more precious time I wasted on it. I can choose to continue and analyze but that won’t stop earth from spinning, whether to change or sun to rise and fall. These will continue with or without me.
Sometimes I am who everyone sees, an aggressive, distracted, attention seeking guy. Sometimes nerdy, a glue that keeps sticking or a sponge that wipe the tears. Just like the tip of the iceberg, no one cares to see the part that’s submerged. All the emotions that are buried deep down inside. Someday I am all tears and someday I am the joy. But moreover, I am pure chaos. I am at times like a fire with nothing to build on until dry leaves come floating and end up turning to ash.
I am not who I was and not who I am going to be. I am the plan that is in-progress. I am not perfect; with the glaring flaws, ignoring them is lying. But I am good at trying and full of energy; tune out at times and become a shell. I might take time to text back or reply instantly. I don’t care if my feelings are hurt but that’s when I am frightened by my emotions. I am sensitive beyond compare and I express them easily. Saying something you feel is an art, something I am yet to perfect. This is what I am, an imperfect Paradox.