Two Days

Despite my ever-shortening memory with the ever-increasing time between now and college, I remember self talk from Psych. I remember learning that it's not always crazy to talk to yourself, and I remember that sometimes only you can convince yourself of your own worth, meaning, or importance. Sometimes I have to tell myself I'm awesome just to believe I'm okay. Just to be okay. Tonight, I remind myself that I can get through anything for two days. I use that one a lot. I can get through anything for a week, a month, probably even a year. It's those indefinite things that scare the shit out of me. There's nowhere to go from there, no foreseeable end to whatever cycle is being perpetuated, no way to convince myself that it'll get better. It forces me to focus on myself rather than the removal of the unwanted stimulus of my discomfort. It's harder to convince yourself you're awesome when you don't believe it than to convince yourself you can get through two days. Anyone can get through two days. You don't have to be anyone special to do that. You have to be special to be awesome. Hell, you have to be special to be okay.

Myselves

It's difficult at times to see the connection between myself and my younger self. The things that I did, the thoughts that I thought, the ways I thought of right and wrong, what I thought was right and wrong, all are often detached, as though I'm remembering someone else's memories, or attempting to remember something that I was only told about rather than something I lived. I suppose we change, we essentially become different people, we transform into another person when we no longer hold the same views, have the same tastes, or behave in the same fashion. Yet when I think of the emotions behind my actions and thoughts, I realize that I witness those same emotions daily even still. Perhaps I don't have the same insecurities, but I still have insecurity. Maybe I don't worry about the same things, but I still have problems with anxiety. Emotion is the connection to the past. Emotion holds our memories in place. Emotion ties us to our former selves, those people we used to be. We're ultimately always the same person. Time can make our memories fade and our own experiences seem foreign. The way we feel about those memories may change; the way we deal with new experiences may change. But we still have the same basic emotions we've always had, which allows us to feel our memories even when we can't relate to them anymore.

Eyes

The eyes terrify me. Those chasms of blackness staring back at me. I think I see evil behind them. I see an ugly human being with an ugly mind. I see the sorrow and the anger held behind the eyes, dying to be seen, desperate to come forth. Terror forces me to turn, to look away, to avoid the glances despite the desire to stare. There is no immediate resolution. I simply must forget the eyes when I am not looking at them. Until again, I see those eyes. I have seen them countless times between, but I notice them once more. They are at once fear-inducing and calming. I look more closely, and I realize that the eyes make more sense now. They are matched by a sorrowful face. No fake smile accompanies the doleful eyes. Not evil; out of place. Out of context it is unsettling, this sadness. But when confronted with the undeniable truth of the eyes and the mind behind the eyes, they seem at last in place, if not unwanted. The willingness to acknowledge a feeling can allow for acceptance of the symptoms, understanding of the consequences of emotion. It is difficult to accept the actions of others, not to mention the catalysts within the others' brains. It is even more difficult to accept our own actions, our own anger, our own lack of rationality. The eyes terrify me because if I want to see them, they must see me, piercing into my very soul, seeming to perceive something I cannot, their pupils following mine in the mirror, never relenting, yet never unveiling what secrets they have uncovered.