This world can be a confusing- beautiful- place.
Polar opposites of the darkest of blacks clashing up against the most blindingly, bright whites leaving us to make sense of and form opinions about them… but isn’t that the beauty of it?
The free will of it? The exploration of it?
Often I find myself on the brink of believing everything black down to my bones, just to turn around and be gob smacked with something so undeniably true about white that my entire theory of absoluteness is blown to smithereens
They tell me this is a characteristic of a creative person; the mere combination of a balanced left and right brain. But I’m beginning to trust this to be fact, not just a made up whimsy in my adverse logic, but a trusted and true fact that there is absolutely nothing certain in this world. That we are all correct in our own right, but also completely mistaken.
Given a different day, a different scenario, a different pair of shoes to walk a mile in, would we abandon many of our beliefs and see things so very differently than we do now?
I believe so.
I believe each day I see the world differently, and that each day there will be people I don’t agree with, places I don’t understand, actions I cannot rationalize.
But that’s just it.
That’s the tapestry. That’s the struggle we live and the beauty we define.
And each day of confusion is bound to be balanced by a day of clarity, which then again will birth new confusions.
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