I believe that we pick the memories from our childhood in which our subconscious feels are most useful in order for survival. I remember being very small- maybe at the age of six or seven- and turning to my mother at dinnertime, only to ask, “What does it feel like to be a grown-up?” In reply, she looked up from her Shepard’s pie and picked up her wine glass, and before bringing it to her lips replied, “It’s very hard. Very, very hard.”

At the age of six or seven the words “difficult” or “hard” only mean not being able to tie your shoe, or going to school and getting picked on. But as you grow older, the word obtains a more subjective meaning, in which it takes on a larger part of life, or a general goal- it is the difficultness in which your self-esteem seems to battle with every day. This is called life.

 

The most bewildering and often frustrating thing in life is sometimes going to bed and waking up the next morning only to feel completely lost and afraid. It’s not the lost and afraidedness that’s scary, it’s the fact that you don’t know why you feel like this. What is this unending void that we call time in which we wake up, every day, and face the world? The power it holds is undeterminable. Or is it the inability to control this? I know that if I cannot control how I feel when I wake up, then I will not be able to control how I feel the rest of the day. But is it really about control? 

more soon.