Being a part of something.

Sometimes I wonder, why can’t I ever be.

Always in between, always fighting my own battle.

I never felt alone, don’t get me wrong. I simply never felt full either.

Being a part of something.

If its lonely at the top, why do people still trying to reach it?

Aren’t we all looking for something, someone, someday, that accompanies our woes and wonders?

Maybe it’s not lonely at the top, it’s just lonely at the heart.

Being a part of something.

It’s a matter of perspective, matter of acclaim.

I am a part of many things, yet at the same time, not a part of anything.

Like when you are blue and green and yellow and purple and orange and red. You are none of them at the same time.

Being a part of something.

Selfishness requires disdain. When you try to put much love to many, they sometimes forget how you try so hard to be accepted.

And when you realize none of the love you give becomes the love you receive, when you accept that it’s not about what you can get.

Being a part of something is just about fulfilling your part, and move on.