Someone once told me that I spent my life skillfully walking a tightrope between reason and impulse. It sparked something within me that I'd never thought to thoroughly ponder.
Reason and impulse: two very different, very opposite-ends-of-the-spectrum meanings.
"You've become the ringleader of this chaotic bazaar; a three ring attraction where you are also the main event,"
I could see myself suspended around millions of people, some of which I knew personally; others I'd ever made eye contact passing through the city. Spreading my arms wide, my chin up high, eyes focused on the glare bouncing off of the taut wire. I could feel it tense beneath the bones of my feet. The lights hung high atop the tent melted every qualm, every fear, every doubt.
"And everyone you've ever come in contact with will be sat ringside, speculating. Some of them have come to watch you flawlessly tiptoe to your destiny, most will want to see you fall to your fate,"
I didn't know it then, but as time progressed, I realized where he stood aside from the wire, the spectators, the hot lamps on my back.
He was my balance.