There are days when I am Left.
Left is the side of me that craves knowledge and thought and the beauty of processes and numbers. Left is my the way my heart swells at the sight of fog outside my window when I wake up or the sound of rain pattering on my roof as i lay down. Left compels me to buy books. Even the ones I know I may never read. Left is the thing that makes me want to read Gladwell over Roth. I love left. But Left loves perfection. Left loves to be right. Left craves pride and rejects tears. Left is the side of me that wants so desperately to run away at the smallest hint of failure. Left prefers pianos and violins over words and lyrics. Left wants to chart life on spreadsheets and check-lists. Left is sad when there are germs. Left is angry when people ask too many questions. Left is judgmental, even of itself. There are days when I am Right. Right is the side of me that craves beauty and excitement and fun. Right is the way my eyes don’t see a pencil, they see the minuscule beads of the graphite tip leaving pieces of itself behind in order to be part of the bigger picture. Right is color coded in the most beautiful way. Right is a collection of pinks and whites and marble columns that support a love of fashion and cats. Right is the thing that wants to dress up for mundane tasks and wear dresses while dancing for no one. I love right. But right loves affection. Right loves to be verified. Right craves acceptance and rejects the ordinary. Right is the side of me that wants to be different. Right prefers cocoa over coffee. Right wants to be loved. Right is sad when given rules. Right is angry when misunderstood. Right is anxious, even of itself. I am both of these things. I struggle to define myself. I don’t like personality tests. I don’t like being one category or the other. I don’t know what I am, but I don’t need a survey to tell me. All I know is that some days I love everything, and some days I just want a soft blanket and a mattress in the middle of a field. Somedays I want to wake up and cry as I watch the sunrise, and some days I want to stay up late and chart constellations as I listen to stories about mythology. Truthfully, I am an endless paradox that is constantly folding and unfolding and breaking and collapsing and reforming and colliding with and against itself in one disastrous juxtaposition. And I like it that way. Because without my Left and my Right sides, I’d have a really hard time navigating.
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