I live in constant tension. Between wanting to live by principles and living in reality. Between having a need to create and a need to eat. Between having physical needs and a desire to live beyond the drive to fulfill them. I crave an audience and seek anonymity. Desirous to be art and desirous to be practical.
In constant tension. Desirous for a chance to change the world and in bed with doubt that I can make a difference. With exhilaration one day and despair the next, with no circumstances changed - except for the fact that I’ve shared my heart.
Constant tension. Between wanting to provide value and desirous to let who I am inform what I do. Between knowing that I’m in the right place and doubting that I’m not. In a state of holding firm convictions and being incredibly weak.
Tension. Unknown strength among unparalleled weakness. Beauty amid pain. Living and dying in the same moment.
It's not tension. It is me.