I thought I understood it.
I thought it was black and white. I didn’t realize there were shades of grey, nor did I realize the grey area was where I wanted to exist.
There was depth there; more substance than I thought imaginable. It was no longer one or the other, but the capacity for everything at once. There was stability rooted in the ground and, from its limbs, sprouted vulnerability. It seemed endless—and in its endlessness, resolute.
The grey area contained no rules. It was messy and I preferred the chaos. Imperfection ran rampant and I ran alongside it, unbridled. I no longer needed to fit into one box or the other. Rather, it allowed me to have the capacity for everything. It was infinite.
When the black and white finally faded against the brilliance of greys, I realized—I never understood it.