Within the Complex
Let me tell you about the world complex. The word rolls off trained tongues — people use it to sound aware. Often it’s the only word that seems to fit whatever they’re attempting to describe, yet how rare it is for anyone to truly grapple with its weight. To live a complex life is to live in-between: to have dabbled in both left and right, to exist in the margins. I call it heavy because we rarely assign real weight to certain words or experiences. Some experiences carry an innate gravity that we inherit simply by choosing them. I feel deeply. Some experiences scar; others carry a different kind of weight — a deep sigh lodged inside you. No matter how many times you try to exhale it, something remains that needs releasing. Life is complex: light is born from darkness, and they require one another. Each has its own pros and cons; comparing them is futile because they’re braided together. Everything is. Every choice contains freedom and imprisonment. So I’m trying to figure out what...