One Flesh, One End

I recently got an essay back, annotated throughout with stripes of colour, but one comment stood out to me:

"Too many rhetorical questions"

How else am I supposed to express myself?

Time and time again, they say "Defend your opinion. Assert yourself unapologetically." But my opinion is just that. An opinion. And no matter how many facts back it, it remains subjective. Vulnerable.

Reading is so different to the act of creation itself, even only through the perspective you bring to it. How can you know if you're saying something? Thoughts consume me constantly, an endless cycle of bullshit flowing through my mind, as I try my best to channel them into something meaningful. Meaningful? What does that even mean? How can I stop questioning everything, when questions are the basis of who I am? They span my entire being, more inquiries than answers, the search more important than the ending, the only conclusion possible a return to the beginning.

The current of my thoughts is uncontrollable, they never stay in one place, but I'm asked to write about one thing, 12 pages, stay on subject, don't get distracted, as if distraction is the antithesis of creation. How could i create without my desire to know? My attention drifts every which way, my thoughts have been dragged away forcefully so many times I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore.

And they ask me to make this torrent palatable? I can redirect My Self into an open document, but that doesn't mean I'm legible.

"Too many rhetorical questions"

Then you shouldn't ask me to provide answers. All I can give is a direction.