The medium to which I like to express myself changes from time to time
Revolving around the same elements.
Paint, camera, pen
Currently I’m in the pen stage.

I have been writing lots, but barely
Snippets really, yet there is no content
I am unfocused and it is deafening
Thoughts
They are random, and jumbled
Yet some clear as day
Fleeting, pointless and at times difficult

I have been numb, lethargic, and out of focus
Feeling like I should be happier, but also sadder

I am a scrambled egg, broken yet whole
I am a blank page and the resume on the back
I am a boulder in the middle of rapids
I am where I should be after many wrong turns
I am wearing pyjamas with running shoes
ready to rest, and ready to run  

I am drawn by the light in the dark
I feel found and lost
I’m making plans, but not too far in advance
I am exhausted but I make myself stay awake
I feel both too young and too old
I am overwhelmed by the weight of responsibility 
It is both too much, and not enough

I am a branch, among many
Strong and Brittle

I am reaching out while disconnecting
I am …. detached and uneven