Moise, why is life so complicated?

I don’t know…

Maybe because it was never meant to be simple. Because simplicity is a dream, a childhood illusion lost as we grow up.

Life is woven from contradictions: We seek love, yet are afraid of truly being seen. We want the truth, yet take refuge in lies. We yearn for freedom, yet chain ourselves to habits, to glances, to expectations.

Like a chess game, life is complicated because it forces us to be several people at once: the child we miss, the adult we pretend to be, and the stranger we fear becoming. It gives us a heart that feels too much, a mind that doubts too much, and a world that constantly demands more—more strength, more silence, more smiles, even as we break inside.

Perhaps life is complicated precisely because it is alive. Because everything that breathes, changes, loves, and loses… is destined to be unstable. And in this instability lies a strange beauty—painful, but true.

So we move on, despite the chaos, despite the contradictions. Because ultimately, it is these complexities that shape us. And perhaps… perhaps true simplicity lies not in life itself, but in the way we look at it.