Why do I write?

Sometimes I write for you. 

Other times I write for me. 

Sometimes I don’t know where you end and I begin. 

And so it’s for both of us. 

Will we learn? 

Will we process feelings and move ahead?

Will we get better at doing what we do?

I’m so profound. 

This is completely trite. 

We are enigmas wrapped up tightly in predicaments.

And so it goes. 

And so we go. 

And so I write.