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Uncertainty.

I am made of ice; a sculpture that deflects the petite spears of light going through my body into the unresolved destinies and possibilities that linger ahead. The days to come are formless and the paths cross each other in the same way that water splashes when a wave hits a colossal mountain rock sitting at the shore. It is like playing an inane game of chess without knowing who’s white and who’s black. I have no clue what my next move is or the one to follow. All the pieces look the same; the Knights .. the rooks .. the bishops. All are fighting a battle that’s not theirs; a battle weaved in pure fiction. Are you aware of that uncomfortable feeling when you don’t know what is going on with your life? Who is doing what? And where is leading where? I don’t know how to classify things into the categories I used to put them in. I don’t know where people fit in my little messy circle. My mind is full of hogwash and my heart is torn apart all over the place; back and forth between reality and the moments that never happened but should have.
I don't think we were always that uncertain about our future when we were younger. We were often asked about what we wanted to be, where we wanted to live or who we wanted to share our lives with. We chanted like sparrows about our dreams which were eerily basic and almost parallel unless any of us wanted to find the lost city of Atlantis or become the next Bellerophon and tame Pegasus. Our answers back then were a silhouette of hope with a crisp of ambition and a soft core of naïvety. I, for example, wanted to be a vintage store owner, I knew exactly what kind of people I wanted to be friends with, I wanted to fall in love with the girl I shared chocolate with at the recess and for us to have this artistical wedding in Venice.
I guess at a certain point, we just became worriers. We replaced our "Leaps of faith" with "Uncalculated risks". We started questioning our feelings and the thoughts behind them. But we knew in essence that our indecision is really uncalled for. Nothing is an easy feat. Nothing is a sure thing. We paint our existence upon a blank canvas and sometimes, it gets so disorderly that others might see it revolting. It's not; life is unfathomable that way.

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