If it was the complexities of feelings, emotions and happenings that make people poets, Then what is it, that stops me from being one? To be able to put all of it in words, to be able to express. To understand, to be understood. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand any of it at all. What are my core elements? Who am I? What am I supposed to do when some hard decisions for future stop me from living, breathing now? I am scared, grieved, afraid to move on and grow up. I already was all these things, and now this particular situation. How is a 17 year old expected to handle all this? Is it how I was built genetically? To have all these “good” thoughts, but not be able to act on it? Too many hearts to care for, mine included. Who’s shall I choose to break? I am not even sure what my heart wants. There are so many things that I see, read and experience. It’s harder to choose one path now. Do they all even care about me? I don’t even know what’s right and what’s wrong. Too afraid of consequences. Is life worth living? There sure are beautiful experiences to come, great people to meet. But isn’t it all the same cycle? Happiness…sadness..Happiness…sadness… Am I suppose to abandon it all, and become a “sanyaasi” to escape this cycle? To escape from all this temporarily, this sweet mind goes off to wander in far off places and time zones, real and unreal. How wonderful the mechanism of our body is. Always trying to give signals, always trying to survive and be healthy. Perhaps this is what I should live up to, for paying back the price of this wonderful system that’s built inside me.
A Confused Thought Process
