When I took this photo I couldn't stop staring at it. It feels like the whole universe is contained inside a little glass ball, all revolving around a centre light that never goes out. The dust particles feel so far from each other yet they come together beautifully to create a blanket over the glass. Every thing is a mess, but there is order in chaos, every thing in its right place. Sometimes I like imagining a world like that, contained inside a tiny glass ball. Not the world as in existence, but the world as in my existence. That everything is in its right place, no matter how messy and disoriented as they seem. Everything is loose, but everything is held tight. Everything is so far apart it may fall, but still it would land safely at the bottom of the glass, or holding on for dear life at the sides of the glass. I need to be okay with mess, uncertainty, chaos. Not chaos as in cancer, but chaos as in why am I this way? A different kind of illness. Why do I keep needing to have more things, when I crave empty spaces. Why do I keep needing to have conversation, when I long for quietness. Why do I keep wanting to build some kind of life, when I already have one. And lastly, I cannot for the life of me understand why I always have to fall to the end of the spectrum before wanting to clean up my act. I always have to create a mess so huge that I have no way out before I decide to dig a tunnel with a spoon. I always have to break myself into so many micro pieces before I decide to reach for the glue. At some point all I can do is sweep up the pieces and hope for regeneration. I know that my mess, no matter how brittle and ugly, will always be kept safe and warm inside this tiny glass bottle. I just need to be okay with it.