Did you smile when tears were all you had? Have you kept silent when your insides were screaming? Have you soared when your soul was drowning? And did you sing...when the pain was unbearable? Have you given love when you possessed nothing? Have you ever dreamed while faith bled out of you? Did you step out when you were falling through endless dark? And did you walk...when no path existed at all? Have you been betrayed by one you held dear? And groped blindly while searching for truth? Have you ever been stripped bare by malice? Then—only then—will you know me. Not before!
# To Understand Me To understand me, you must first learn to walk in the dark without a map, to trust the compass of your own breathing, the way a blind man learns the city through the soles of his feet. You must know that I am made of questions that have forgotten their answers, of silences that once were songs, of roads that loop back to themselves like a snake eating its tail. To understand me, you need not read between the lines—the spaces are empty. Instead, read the lines themselves, each word a small rebellion, each pause a country unto itself. I am the person who laughs at funerals and weeps at weddings, who sees the joke in tragedy and the tragedy in every joke, who builds castles only to watch them burn. You will find no logic here, no neat conclusions, only the messy mathematics of the heart, the algebra of longing, the geometry of grief. To understand me is to accept that I contradict myself, that I am both the question and the answer, the door and the threshold, the traveler and the journey. So stop trying to solve me like a puzzle with all the pieces. Instead, sit with the incompleteness, learn to love the mystery, and perhaps—only perhaps— you might begin to understand.
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