I discovered the marrow of my being, stripped of pretense and brimming with authenticity. I leaned into the observer, the seeker of truth, and let the words flow like a river carving its narrative through the rocky canyons of existence.
Polarity in my veins, the light and darkness, love and loss, all intertwined. The form emerged, not from eloquent words, but from the unspoken spaces between them.
Constantly being watched, and evaluated, they said. Time was the relentless judge, the cruel editor, and yet, I go on. For, in the end, it was the process, the journey, that mattered most.
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