I never saw the World as a straightforward place. That`s why I decided to become something I didn`t believe existed. Something clean and something pure;
I became one of the Hoodies, the black & white one, with nothing underneath. No head to fill it, and no light to light it.
In order to exist as such I choose to implore myself here so that I can be well defined out there.
I don`t know what I want. And, I`m not sure what I need. I`m not sure who I want to be, who I want to meet, or where I want to be. I don`t know if I really believe in inner beauty so much that I don`t care about the exterior one. I am not sure if I care enough to become the next big thing, and if I even admire the same people that I`ve used to. I can`t really say anything with any certainty anymore. I am just not sure… I am confused…………………………… but not enough to tune out… to stop writing. Not clear enough to write. In this place of imperfect misbalance, in the moment of unease, I try not to be great, but to exist. Me, the white paper, and this black pen.
Yes, I`m pretty sure in that…
The only problem left is the inescapable shades of gray.