At times, I think I am a being of reason, and that foolish feelings distract me from that which is concrete and provable.
At times, I believe I am a being of emotion, and that heartless logic cuts me off from the deeper meanings of that which is elusive and intangible.
Usually, both of these conclusions assert themselves at the same time.
I’ve always resolved the disagreement with a concept of compromise. I’m not mere belief or mere thought, I tell myself. I am both. I am a hybrid, a fusion, a symbiosis where neither can exist without the other. By taking both of these sides of myself into me, I become stronger, kinder, wiser, more human.
It’s a nice idea, even if it isn’t true.
Because I–the real me, the being I picture when I say ‘I’, my true self-image–I am not one or the other. I am neither emotion hampered by thought, nor thought tainted by emotion. And I’m certainly not both.
I am the conflict.
I am the unbroken ground between two opposing forces, and I am the dust in the air as they meet. I am the blood in the sand that no longer belongs to any side.
I am the violent struggle, and the unsteady truce in its wake.
I am the coldly reported calculations of casualties, and I am the wails of mothers and orphans.
I am the space between, the emptiness, the void.
And this is all I ever want to be. For if the hostilities ever cease, if logic and belief ever find common ground, settle their disagreements, and become one, I will no longer exist. I will be gone, and something new and different will take my place.
So the battle will rage on, at all costs. War without end, amen.
I will remain the void, because I have always been the void.
And I fear the void that may wait for me.