She was all complexity,
All at once
At first glance, the intricacies
The depths of existence
Seemed obvious

The clean cut lines
The black and white was never where she dwelt
She found comfort in shadows
In the grey areas of some people’s uncertainty
Was where she found assurance
Assurance of sanctity
Sanity

It is such a morbid thing, isn’t it?
To believe that our comfort will lay in the rare normalcy
I’d rather be crazy
I’d rather be all of it all at once
I’d rather be me.

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