The empty canvas or the iridescent; what we choose to show is perceived subjectively, and without the proper explanation, one perception may render my empty canvas something it is not. An explanation is a limit, however. To one person, it is a unique complexity; to another, it is a simple virtuosity. But all the possibilities form an ulterior beauty: it’s never the same for each and every person.
There are numerous days in which I’m an empty canvas, and an explanation is demanded; I’m not good with explanations. I no longer have the energy to provide them. And the possibilities, in this instance, terrify those who demand the explanation. They see something they don’t understand… and they are terrified and distressed. Can you blame them?
It is merely a conflict; a conflict of colors and no colors at all. How do you perceive those who choose colors and those who choose none?!
Whether I am the empty canvas or the iridescent one, I, with all my heart, and all my soul, need to be both; to be every color and no color at all.
It is essential to be subject to all possibilities, to be limitless; with no explanation. Alone, I choose to be dark blue. With you, I chose to be lime green. And with them, I was colorless.
It seems to me that over the course of time I fail miserably to be who and what I want to be. The conflict that is being acceptable to most people by behaving in accordance with their perspective on social life which is precisely in contrast to being myself and having a different perspective is invariably devastating. What is more devastating is that I find myself unconsciously acting as they expect me to.
Long sleepless nights spent thinking about things that were done only because they were expected of me to do and not because I meant to do them. Things that I said but never meant simply because saying what I really thought would have been considered queer, and consequently would have made me “unacceptable” for violating their social norms.
It is a ferocious struggle to keep the preservation of truly and completely being yourself when it is blemished by the environment that you live in; an environment radiating obsolete way of thinking, and when it is escaping your grip.
I honestly have apathetic indifference to what people think, but it saddens me that the truth could be that I’m too scared to be who I really am or that If I was allowed to be it, I would disappoint myself.
Am I what society allows me to be or am I too scared?!