Intersection of the paralles

I am well aware that parallels are never meant to cross each other in the real world. But they might have an intersection when they're inside you, inside me and probably almost everyone out there.

Two tracks that never cross each other,

Symphonies that never resonates with one another,

The parallels, which has always coexisted within a sentient corse (Me) if that’s possible.

I guess it isn’t rare, my mind is still bare,

body breathing just fine, yet something inside feels confined: 

Two Personas (probably uncountable though)

Putting together;

1: a calm discreet nature,

     thoughtful, sensitive, and a bit tender,

     with a menacing tone,

     who is always ready to surrender.

2: a  misanthrope (not really),

    with disdain for everything to ever exist,

    an anxious reticent character

    though being opposed still persists.

Having been engaged in the mortifying ordeal (how poetic of someone to explain the reality this way) while existing, I could always alternate between vulnerability and resilience, acceptance and resistance, optimism and pessimism.

And then comes the intersection:  between these polar opposites which I call the parallels. The hopeless cross has branched out so many variations, so many personas that drafting all of them in a paper would be a nightmare. Somedays I care too much while other times I don't care at all, then hours are spent to figure out myself by me; am I too good that I care too much about everything and everyone or am I the worst for not caring at all; am I really that happy kid who's got everything as people define or a morose who has nowhere to go to on an actual day. The versions are so polar opposite that my reality feels like illusion and more worst are the intersections of these versions that seems surreal.

In fact, I fear the intersection, the figures it has made to coexist within me. Trying to be well loved and well received throughout my life, I fear that it might unveil a detestable mortal lying at the very depth of a reserved reservoir. The fear of praises and compliments which shall never put me at ease as it sets a boundary which according to an unwritten order is unbreakable. The fear that makes me weigh my words carefully, makes me tenacious, makes me incompetent to fight my own thoughts. I fear being figured out by another soul due to intertwined roots and branches created by the cross of those converse parallels.

The whole point of this fear is thinking about similar races(humans to be exact) and their opinions; their judgements (suffocating). So, the only solution could possibly be acceptance ; at the end, these versions are what creates us; like the combination of different shades of light refracting from a suncatcher hanging on the window (somewhat magical). Good and bad lies inside us and the so called parallels (which were never meant to be one) along the intersections pretty much are what defines us. 

The world inside has much more turmoil than the world outside (since the reason of outward one's are the inner one itself) and how world sees you is less important than how you chose to see the world.