The Mystery That is My Life

By Anouk C

I feel a lot of things in this beautiful life. I want to be able to touch it, embrace it… but it’s difficult since what I perceive isn’t really there. It’s just a vivid projection of my imagination.

I smile thinking about the fact that something so close is never really mine. Something I perceive isn’t really mine.

I wonder what possesses me with the feeling of entitlement. Everything I see is mine or should be mine. Seems awfully conceited.

Perhaps it’s for the best. I don’t mind this warped sense of reality. I just seem to crave this sense of being.

Perhaps it makes me feel alive, makes me feel seen. A large part of me wants to hold onto this feeling. But another, wiser, saner part of me whispers ‘Is it really worth it?’

I want to succumb to that very feeling, but it seems futile. Perhaps it’s a little mental? A little wicked? Or just a little absurd?

But I want it all. Selfishly, I reach out to all the craziness.

It might not embrace me the same way I do it, but it’s a feeling of comfort I am familiar with.

Perhaps I will lay here a little longer.

Amongst the little filth, I call my life.

The filth, I call my love.

I feel…I embrace...I love…

All parts of this beautiful mystery I call my life.

By Anouk C