I can’t bank on much these days. My first love won’t afford me solid ground that this concrete world demands of me. A chemist can’t defy biology, despite her truest desires. I am a writer, maybe masquerading as a scientist. I’m having doubts, that I can ever be one of you. In my heart are ideas of love, existence, and God. I’ve got chemistry with the chemistry that leads me closer to the truth: that lends me greater thoughts, and I just want to sing them to the collective you. My dreams don’t align with anyone I know. I’m trying so hard to be a Wallace Stevens and lead a useful life while not suppressing the words that I hold inside.
I’m trying so hard
just to be