The Mosaic

Oscillating between versions of me, The one doing his best to be strong, The one spiraling to the bottom, I find it difficult, To put my mind into the world, Particularly so when it's not to share thoughts of growth, strength or wisdom. I take a while to process my thoughts, the understanding of my feelings lags even further behind that. I don’t want the world to see me weak, to see me struggle. That’s something I carry, rooted in a feeling of inadequacy. i feel the need to cover all weakness in strength, that's what my books taught me, and life showed me. but i struggle, and for reason's I don't entirely understand. i just know that someday's I wake up, and my brain feels dry, and the colors gone. and the only way I've ever known to process this, is by the name weakness because there's still things to do, and it's my job to do them. and before even saying my feeling's don't matter, feeling's isn't even a word I should use. I'm a man, what business do I have feeling, my thoughts should take precedence. Still I know me a little bit by now, and I go through seasons, seasons, of discipline, of creativity, of intensity, free, of sorrow, all will pass, still I experience them, I question myself, before I reach the point where I cover it in masculinity and get on with things, Is my brain different or does everyone experience this? When I next speak, should I share what I think, or get on with it. and why am I so good at getting on with it... At least I thought I was, instead now there's a camera. watching me, and when I lack for enthusiasm, they see it, they tell me they see it and I think what do I do. surely i don't want to create a running dialogue for the inside of my mind, to invite in the opinions of strangers, to open it up to the critique of the world, but I do, I do wish to share, To be myself is to integrate all. but i'm afraid. I don't know how to articulate my mind in a way that paint's the picture. At least it's not something I could do in one day, I could only ever give a fragment, one that will contradict the next providing little clarity, while inviting eyes to the mosaic of my mind, piece by piece allowing other's to put them together and create their own versions of me. I suppose my life is art now, or maybe it has always been, and the best thing to do, would be to capture it as though no one alive will ever see, then I'll be free, from the self imposed shackles of how I'm supposed to be.