I wonder about a lot of things.
Often, I ask myself questions that I
won’t know the answer to anyway,
or will know sooner or later,
but there is no use in asking.

Others speak about what I
don’t understand,
and I wonder what they think of me.
Then I think that I’m being
too selfish.
I look for the right words,
and find myself absorbed
in thoughts once more
unable to simply appreciate
the nature of things.

And everything comes down
to the necklace
of oddly-shaped beads
that I keep inside
but am sometimes too embarrassed to wear.
Because every time I look at it,
every time I examine each bead in its solid form,
I’m reminded of all the moments
I said something wrong,
or said what I hadn’t meant to,
but mostly,
that I didn’t say what I could have.

And all of these little beads,
glass spheres, or lumpy bits of plastic
are supposed to reflect me,
which again makes me wonder
if I’m living the way I should,
if I’m making every piece matter,
if I really know
who I am.

Because when I try to remove the lumpy ones,
I pull the rest along with them,
and it frustrates, yet amazes me
how everything is connected.