The other day I spent daunting hours filling up endless pages in my journal about my crush as well as angst and dream dates and roof-sittings while staring at stars. I think the world is quite the beautiful place, even in its deep despairing misery, but in saying that, I also recognize its ugly, twisted shadows and burdening clouds of sadness. I see its blackness, its eerie, irking, lurking presence. I don't really know if I'm seeing it yet... seeing reality, what is and what isn't, seeing myself when I look into the mirror and being able to say, "Oh, hey, yeah, that's me. That's me, right there in the glass." I think blindness comes in many forms. There is physical blindness, where your eyes have lost touch with your body, and there is emotional blindness, which is when your vision is clouded with perpetuated delirium. It's hard to know how to wipe your eyes clean of that mist, because after a while, after a long, long while of having your vision clouded over with conformity, expectations, depression, and exhaustion, you lose your sight, the sight that lets you see inside yourself, which is the most important form of sight. If part of teendom is losing yourself only to find yourself again, how can you be sure you'll ever find yourself after you've been unable to look inside your own mind for so long and read your thoughts clearly, as if they were forever uninhibited? I'd like to see again.