Sometimes I think I have things figured out.
Other times, it’s painfully obvious that I don’t.
Sometimes I think I am growing and evolving and
discovering parts of myself I never knew were there.
Other times, I can’t believe how much I’ve stayed the same.
Sometimes I close my eyes and wish that I could disappear somewhere,
reinvent myself, become someone else overnight.
Other times, I curse myself for those thoughts because I am happy with who I’ve become.

There’s something I keep looking for and not finding…
a void in my life that I thought the right person could fill.
But what if I am searching for a fantasy that will never become reality?
And what if that’s true because of my own limitations, because of my scars,
because of my walls?

How then, do I attain that completeness I want so terribly?
And do I even keep searching for it when all my hope could be false hope?
I want to understand these things… to understand myself.
I still want what I want but at what cost do I seek it out?

I remember why the walls are up.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to tear them down.