I'm not sure who I am,
nor am I sure who I'm not,
or if I'm anything at all,
what's the difference between you and me?
I'm not sure how we got here,
how everything came to be,
did it happen at the speed of light or did it take time?
Was it painful or blissful,
does it matter?
Would it mean anything to know how the ground below our feet appeared?
Would we change the way we live or would we keep walking as we did before?
I'm not sure we'd see the stars as beautiful if we could comprehend how far they have become.
Why do I believe when I see triple digits on the clock that the universe is speaking to me?
Like the universe gives a shit about me,
as if I am important enough to be spoken to.
I'm scared of picking books off the shelf because I'm afraid I won't understand what they say.
Everyday I listen to a melody,
but if it is not familiar to me
it's not as pleasant,
perhaps because I'm not sure what's coming.
As many of us aren't,
what will happen once my eyes close and I finally let go,
what will I take with me?
"You ask too many questions."
They say,
perhaps it's easier not to know anything.
