I’ve never understood why no one understands

I've never understood

I never considered myself in a certain way.  I’ve never been able to see the world how the others see it. It’s very strange, darlings… I feel like I’m spiritual colorblind, my power for assessment is deeply two-colored – it’s either it or it isn’t. I’ve never understood why people don’t understand.

I am the fourth face – equity. I’ve never found shades in human imbalance.

It either exists or it doesn’t exist – without any explanation. It doesn’t exist for pain, it only exists cure. It’s sure that it has a strange trace of hypocrisy. All my life I looked for an answer to the question “ where is my place”, myself being an avatar of imbalance.

Ever since I was a little child I was raised in a series of injustices. These things created a being that judge, with faces and multiple minds, without being the real interest of somebody.

My life was a very lonely life.

I tend to think that life has chosen me and that I didn’t choose it. It’s pretty unpleasant to live just for putting everything in white and black, but you to live in a suffocating grey, that consumes every cell of your mind that is in a continued decay ever since the moment of birth.

Do you see? I’ve got a colossal dilemma: am I good or bad?

How can you define the spectrum of something that it doesn’t even exist? Is it the good the absence of bad? Is it the bad the absence of good? Are they the two concepts independent entities that just coexist? Probably no, both exist only comparative. It exists worse and better things than any element that must be analyzed.  I’ve never understood this…

Anyway, both are subjects. Subjectivism doesn’t belong to my being.

If you want an opinion, talk to the other faces: one, two and three. I’m four.  It is supposed that I’m the luckiest, even if four isn’t a lucky number. I’m not younger than the other faces, either older. My conscience itself exists besides the other concepts. I exist to evaluate. Their pains don’t touch me.

Everything that can destroy me is the confusion – the impossibility to evaluate. The impossibility to choose suffocates and it takes my entire system out of use. I’m useless as long as I can’t fight for the balance between white and black – and correct definition of these almighty entities. I’ve never understood why people don’t understand.

This is what I hate about myself – I am a black being that is looking for white, but none of them without the other.

I’ve never accepted this situation. My own existence forces me to admit that it exists something between white and black.

Maybe I am white and black. Maybe I am good and bad.

One thing is sure about me – my purpose is to make you understand better what you live.

If you enjoyed this article, you might want to check this poem out.


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