I am not this thing you can rely on, confide in, resolute within. I am this thing that I am trying to grasp. I am elusive. I am what is sought after. I am an unending circle of plateaus and crescendos and pointless returns. I am what you are; this point that we can’t quite meet at. I am at this angle at that point that doesn’t make much sense. I am what you are following. I am belongingness. I am this answer that you are chasing. I am the human condition. I am confused, stupid, powerful, artistic, and what you define. I am nothing really yet you keep calling me back as if to resurrect. I am what you are not. I am this thing that actually manifests into a more magnificent thing. Why? I grow. I learn. I don’t make excuses. I don’t have the choices that you have. I am this thing. I am what you want me to be. You should expect more of me really.