I am not satisfied with simple answers, the ones that fail to rise up and overwhelm the question so that another must be asked. I was given complex questions to answer when I was a child, mysteries.
I am but particles of dust and elements, animated by an invisible force called consciousness, able to feel and interact with the seen and unseen forces of the cosmos, to be joyful, passionate, ecstatic, yet also ache, suffer and lament. To give or take life, to love or hate, to create or destroy, to accept or reject, these are some of the confusions of being human.
I have been tormented both by what I remember and by what I forget. My biological record is seared into neural filing cabinets, some accessible and others not. Often I have wished that my memory would fail me just a little bit better.
My greatest struggle has been to hold the breadth and the width of all that I feel. The opposing forces confuse, and the weight crushes. On my more sane days I know that what I view as imbalances is really the proof of the balances.
Ying and yang, and all that.
For to measure one moment against another is to deny the full experience of life.