Scabs.

Last week in an AH bathroom, living in the created world of headphone music, I stumbled upon a conversation that was...well, odd. People always graffiti the bathrooms and I suppose that on a regular basis these conversations or statements are wiped clean. Perhaps it was a fluke that I was there seeing the almost clean slate. Someone had written, "I'm depressed" and someone else had responded "Don't worry, I am too" and somewhere off to the side I contributed my sentiments, "I have become comfortably numb." But this is the thing about AP, it seems to have become a work horse environment. I get this sense that we're machines or robots and going through the motions while underneath there is all of this junk going on. Are we there because we want to be or because our parents tell us that we have to be or because society says that we can't survive in the idealized lifestyle without being there. It's become quite the contradiction, I don't want to be there, not now, not in these classes. I always somewhat figured that the cool thing about college was that I would finally get to take classes that I really cared about... but it's not the case. I realize that there's give and take but I also realize that I've only been able to manage to take one class that was extremely appealing to me.

I feel like I've lost the passion for things accomplished. I spent most of the weekend reading sections of Plato's "Laws" a fitfully dense piece of political banter that left me in bed trying to fall asleep but not being able to because my eyes hurt. Yes. My eyes hurt from reading so much Plato. So much Plato that I stopped counting how many hours I was investing in finishing it. And when I finally finished it? Nothing. I felt no sense of accomplishment. I can't find my reward out of school. I don't understand. I don't know how to create this feeling, it's something I've never actually had to create before. It's frustrating. What happened?

The fact that I'm struggling in a realm of things intangible I'm finding myself seeking to find the ground again. I need the stability of things not constantly feeling as though they are over my head. I need the affirmation. I'm afraid I'm not going to get the grades. It's ridiculous, I know. I think we're conditioned to this feeling of inadequacy so that we consume more and spend more. I don't trust my talents enough.

I love to pick scabs. I'm constantly picking at things that should be left alone, learning that when I peel the cover off what's underneath is much deeper than I expected it to be.

When I ride my bike to class I ride by the cemetery. It's a peaceful, serene place that's (for the most part) empty. I was riding home the other day when I noticed two piles, one being of dead tree branches and the other being of fake plastic flowers. (presumably both piles were to be removed) I was struck by the contrast of such a situation, the maintenance (or lack there of) of life in fake flowers and the decaying of fallen tree branches. Such elements contrasting the cemetery and surrounded by autumn (and falling, dead leaves) left me with a pitter-pattering heart and sensing the difficulty of pulling away from such an image.

Picking scabs and worrying about stuff. Those are things I'm good at. I've picked the scab of the memories of the vengeance of cancer. Stuff from years ago that you don't even have to try to forget because evolution or instinct or something unnameable has already erased it for us. The contradiction of trying to know yourself but not knowing what's really going on inside of you. It's frightening and I can't even conceptualize what life will be like if/when I have to deal with it again.

I'm wearing Africa on my chest and hanging it from my rearview mirror (always looking back, always looking back), securing Norway around my neck, and cutting Obs from off my wrists.