I'll be sharing one or two stories a month. Unless I'm feeling lazy.
In fact, I’ve become too familiar with it. But being familiar doesn’t necessarily mean that you understand it. There are things that are far too complicated to comprehend and I get it; we are human. Or so we all like to conclude when we don’t know something.
My head is a battlefield. I was born with a brain that can’t stop debating with itself. It’s like listening to a radio station with overlapping signals—it’s exhausting. But someone told me once that when there are too many things in your head, write. So here I am at 3 AM rambling nonsense on my computer!
Uncertainty is disguised as a stalker who follows us everywhere. It’s an attention-depraved entity that feeds on people’s self-esteem. It dwells in our bedroom, sleeps in our bed, stands in the corner as we move through our day, and holds our hand when we are around people. Some see it as an enemy, but I think it’s treated unfairly and certainly, has lost its purpose.
The reality is that we are living in a parallel universe. One in which we are now breathing and standing while the other is the universe we create in our heads. They are two completely different worlds whose paths sometimes collide. The result can be undesirable, but it can also be fascinating. Uncertainty lives in that universe in our head.
I used to detest uncertainty—not knowing who or what I want to become, or if tomorrow, we live or die; the uncertainty of rewards and consequences, of living a life we don’t understand, but merely accept. But then I got tired of running and decided to have a conversation with it. I gave in, showed my vulnerability, screamed, cried, and after infinity had passed, it responded.
It’s not the sort of thing I’d like to accept, but I have to. It’s still scary to think of the unknown, but at least I know it has a purpose.