Inconstance

It's such a strange and complicated thing, being human and learning to understand all things, even though all things were not designed to ever be fully understood. I feel so inconstant.
I feel like the ocean waves, advancing and then receding, never getting anywhere. And though I relate to these waves, I somehow envy them also. For they have a pattern, a place, a way to exist.
And through all my envy and my relating, and my attempts to understand, to fit, to cope, to move and be moved, I am still-- the world moves fast around me, and I remain so very still, quiet.
That, if nothing else, is constant.