"If this is empty, this doesn't matter."

Stark summing up is something. I never know whether to buy in or to forsake. Maybe I believe I am more complex than a sentence can tell. I could barely manage it with my own pen. Even with the assistance of semi-colons. Who I am. What I am. What I want. What I mean. What I'm worth. What my echo sounds like. What my silence sounds like. What my absence smells like. Where it goes.

When I believe things are simple, I can find peace in a fortune cookie. When I allow for subtext, I curse the name of whoever invented language. All these words. They only allow me to find myself further from the answer. Further from the door.

The direction the door swings tells you whether you are going in or going out.