Philosophies In Third Person

She began to realize that thinking thoughts in your head was fairly different than writing them down. To write something down transitions an idea from the abstract to the tangible, and she understood that it would be useful for her to have some semblance of concreteness in her life. She decided it would be a reclamation of something she once loved, although this was something she now considered tarnished through her contemplation of the validity of her love. But this anxiety needed to be tossed aside, she was certain, for fear of completing nothing of consequence. After all, the 14-year-old version of her had decided that the worst thing you could be was boring, and she thought she should probably get back to that sentiment. 

In fact, she decided she was taking a break from most of her preconceived resolves this year by laying out an entirely contrasting set of new ones. Like the fact that she would not wear excessive makeup, she would surround herself with people who had personalities they believed in, and she would not care what others thought about either one of these decisions. The final one turned out to be the most difficult. While she hadn’t taken a break from the values she had construed coming into freshman year, she would describe the past three years as a time when she didn’t think of them all that much. Instead, she had found herself caring more about her outer appearance and what that meant to others as opposed to herself and had acquired a multitude of new contexts in the process. For the first time, she found herself able to contextualize herself in society the way she had always wanted, in a normal way. It had been entertaining, for sure. It was a bit like watching her life go by through screenplay. But it hadn’t been very constructive in establishing any sense of identity for herself. 

She knew she wasn’t supposed to be satisfied with where she was in any abstract sense, she was still 17, but she hadn’t really tried putting any effort in the direction of self-actualization. Because if she really did try, what if she failed? But she was all about getting away from that this year, and anyway, a fail just meant you learned a little more about yourself in the process.   

Albeit, this wasn’t to say she knew nothing about herself. Of course, she knew some things. She knew that she had a knack for philosophy. She knew she enjoyed the great outdoors and believed in at least a few gasps of fresh air daily. She knew that she enjoyed being a part of pretentious conversations and circles, and had dreams of being intimidatingly smart one day. She would measure this in her entirely unguided ability to complete a New York Times crossword puzzle in a reasonable amount of time, whenever she had the whim, she decided. 

She also didn’t care if the stakes were high. This was simply a given, where would she end up if she didn’t have lofty goals for herself? Her 6th-grade math teacher had a poster with the colloquial quote, “Shoot for the moon, even if you miss you will land among the stars,” and as cheesy as it was, it stuck with her. She could see where the people who didn’t shoot at all ended up, and she wasn’t particularly fond of that place. Maybe it was a little harsh, but at least it was motivating. She was mostly worried maybe she was getting closer and closer to being someone stock-still in paralysis, clutching their bow with no arrows in their quiver. 

 Around the same time, the girl began to realize that she was almost entirely motivated by fear, but that didn’t scare her. She didn’t know where she wanted to go, but she most certainly knew where she couldn’t be, and that was a foundation better than nothing at all.