Existing.

What is it about being a free, roaming, spiritual and light-hearted nomad that is so luring to us all? The raging battle between the moulding of our intellect, and the ramblings of an old soul is ongoing. It should never stop, though.

We are so caught up in wanting to feed our starving souls that we never stop to think what we would do if it finally became content. Between finding a balance and striving to free ourselves - if my soul was to ever stop searching, I fear I would grow complacent.

I exist in a field where solitude is welcomed. It envelopes me and something inside me stirs. A yearning to be somewhere else, but for this field to be here every night awaiting my return. If I am going to find myself somewhere, it will be here - in this field of vast emptiness and expanding deserts. 

I exist in a society that is fixated on degrees, wealth, status, perfect abiding trophy wives - not just for the man, but for the extended family that inevitably comes with him. It demands for young women to garner self belief, secure a career, achieve and succeed, rise and keep rising to eventually... to eventually buckle to pressures of marriage, kids, household duties. Was it all done in vain?

I exist to misunderstand the path I'm meant to be taking in life. To be unsure of my choices, never comprehending disputes and strange desires of things out of the norm. To travel - oh to decipher corners of the earth that are unknown to man. To allow different winds to circle me and to breathe in gusts that will liven my being.

I exist as a woman to be analysed, scrutinised, taken apart, ridiculed and mocked. Celebrated by what I choose to wear or what I don't. My mind can harvest a garden of fruitful knowledge but yet, it is not enough. Lest we forget every single being is a human who is susceptible to making mistakes. 

I exist with an insatiable desire to be perfect in every way. Why must I obey others demands but disobey my own? Backed into a corner everywhere I go, with a smile that haunts me even in the darkest depths of my solitude. 

I exist to be an indomitable spirit, or at least I try to be. The path to purity gives way if my positivity isn't wholly intact. Funny that, isn't it? Almost as if my faults endure me regrettably. In all my years of living, my curiosity never killed me. Lord only knows how it gnawed at me, either bringing me fortune or error. Either way it is a forbearance we should all enjoy. 

I exist to never belong. To feel alien in various comfortable ruses. To feel like no matter how much I adapt, the habitus will forever deceive me. I go on to knock at a myriad of doors, to which I find will avidly invite me in but yet I seek to return to my field. Alone, is where I belong.

I exist to pander to his pride. To help alleviate the pain of his aches and trials. To console and to soothe - to ensure the flower does not wither without my presence. To gently reprimand a crouching beast. To intimately mirror his life in order to help him grow. To support and to love. To take his lows so he is only left with the highs. 

I exist to be a poetic justice, in ode to the greats of our time.

S.K.