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To be present in reality,
Encapsulated
In flesh and bones
Concurrently,
To be nowhere
But inside
As a ponderer
Of things
Not yet known.
Impossibilities
Swirling to ascend
Outside
Of its familiar,
Complicated world
To dare be open
To criticism and
The hatred
From the other self
And everyone else
Lingering,
Analyzing
Every aspect
Of being.
The fear
Of betrayal
And failure
Or that all
Is for naught.
It is perhaps
Just overthinking.
Or perhaps not,
Who knows.