Fluid

Struggle. Push. Shove. Fight.

All actions I want to commit at this time. I am restless. I am frustrated. I am confused. I just want certainty in my life. Tomorrow hasn't come, but tomorrow is unknown to me, and that bothers me. The sun may have set, but the shadows seem as if they will remain well past the sunrise tomorrow morning. Isn't that uncomfortable for anyone? Who likes walking along in the dark anyways?

If it is any consolation to me, I am amongst probably 90% of the world's population. I really question whether anyone really has total certainty to their life. You may have that nice paying job now. You may have the wonderful girlfriend, the best friend, the perfect family. But how much certainty is their in all that. No, I am not talking about some horrible event upheaving your entire life. I am merely pointing out the fluidity of life. It takes a shape, then molds again, barely holding it's form before another rapid transformation. It can be so fast paced nay a blink of an eye can catch it. Or it can be painstaking slow, the eyes burning as they watch, wide, waiting patiently for the change to occur.

Either way, it scares me. To know just how fluid life is: How it changes, how it molds, how it disappears and yet will reappear in another figure or form. I want to fight against it. Hell, I want to mold it into something I can understand or comprehend. But each time I grab it, it flows right through my fingers. The shape it once had ruined by my desire to control it. It billows out, stretches, as if to avoid my touch at all. It is clear, perfectly clear like a crystal. There is nothing to it, yet so much contained inside of it. It shows my reflection, whether I want it to or not, my face ripples through it's ever changing facets. It warps my figure, just as it warps itself.

And it scares me. But I dare not touch it. For touching it, as I have learned in the past, is far worse than the unknown that comes with the fluidity of life itself. Rather, I am patient. I wait and I too become fluid. I adapt to the very changing object we call life. Suddenly I am changing along with it, moving in and out like the perfect dance partner. Until I don't recognize myself as I did once before. Suddenly life takes a shape that allows a glimpse back at myself. And I realize how much I have changed since I last glanced before, be it two years, two weeks, or two days.

That isn't scary. It is beautiful. But I can be scared of beauty. I should be scared of beauty.