I have always been obsessed with the why of things. Ever since I was a child, I’d think things through, exploring all sides and angles something could have. I loved peeling the layers of life, people and everything that happened.
Over time, the process of peeling those layers became synonymous with who I am and how I think. Everything I saw was bound to have more than what met the eye.
It became muscle memory to look at something happen, experience something, and start diving deeper into it.
Just as an artist would seek balance in all things, I seeked depth. Over time, it became a requirement. There was an odd sort of high in figuring out the whole picture, connecting dots and finding the why.
Like an addict, all I had to do was take one hard look into the mirror to accept that my need for the why did more harm than good.
I learned that life happens and more often than not, there’s no why; it just is the way it is and things are just the way they are.
It is in that lesson that I found my calm.