I find humans very odd. Especially these days. People in general have always fascinated me; it’s as if I could watch them for hours. Yes, I agree with you, reader, maybe it is unhealthy or peculiar to psychoanalyze strangers at parties. But I always discover something new about myself through them. I have new epiphanies each day. That is what life is about. I came to a couple of realizations while “under” the tragic “influence” at a party this weekend. However, it wasn’t a comforting or exciting realization, like usual. More so, one that was uglier than imagined. I discovered that we, as humans, as young adults, are constantly trying to find a “middle” with connection. This middle, is very goldilocks in nature: not too much, not too little, just right. Yet this “just right” is socially impossible. And might I add, it is:
Boring as hell
This middle is seen in everything. One cannot be too unique, yet one cannot be “basic.” We only value an abundance of individuality when it pleases us. The girl with 6 bows in her hair and a dress on is too unique, or more so doesn’t appeal to the “uniqueness” we crave, yet the girl in the bomber jacket and a baseball cap is too ordinary. Specifically, something I noticed most while at this kegger-of-a-lifetime, was the middle we try to be a part of in our common interactions with each other. When trying to pursue someone, in whatever way that may be, you must play hard to get. Yet, not too hard to get. Because if you are too hard to get, your heavenly suitor will become discouraged. But never, and I repeat never, tell them you are into them.
You must find an impossible middle. We can never have too much of a good thing. But, good things are good. They are more than good. They are beautiful, and yet we limit ourselves from being something immeasurable and remind ourselves to find a boring, dull, middle.
I have thus had a pretty epiphany that sparked from an ugly epiphany, and here’s what it is:
F*ck The Middle
The things that are immeasurable, and infinite, and beaming, are not stuck in a safe middle. Like the sun, for instance. The sun is not safe. The sun is dangerous. The sun beams at a heat immeasurable and beguiling, and it kisses our skin with it’s light each day. I will live like the sun does, to be a superb meteor. I realize now that there are so many other things I would rather be called than pretty, there are so many other qualities I crave that are not “hard to get.” I refuse to mold myself into something safe. I don’t desire my emotions to be safe. I am a whole being with a timeline of memories and experiences and a brain filled with thoughts, and I am expected to be broken down into a pill that is easy to swallow. We, as a human race, are not easy to swallow. We will never be, because we have infinite content hidden in our identities. I decided to write a poem about this, prettier, epiphany:
F*ck the middle.
You are superb.
Now go out there, and act like it.