Rate of Change

OK Go is a band that I think everyone has heard of or encountered at one point or another, but few can identify them by name. They go viral on a regular basis with their music videos, be it from covering their own song using a Chevy Sonic, creating a gigantic Rube Goldberg machine, choreographic a treadmill routine for their music, or even my personal favorite, creating a whole music video in 4.2 seconds. I could probably write a whole different kind of post for how much I enjoy their music and their videos, but for now, with change on everyone’s mind as 2017 begins,  there’s one song that they have that I’ve wanted to write about: “White Knuckles” (the music video for this song features cute and well trained puppies, so I highly suggest watching it).

2016 was big year, and although I feel like most of us (myself included) would say that the world has come off worse for the wear because of it. Great people have left the world, leaving a very painful opening that will never be fully filled. The first verse of “White Knuckles” sums up this feeling:

You’ll never get that taste, out of your mouth
You’ll never get the paw prints, out of the hen house now
And you can’t go back, same way you came
Round all the pieces up, but they just don’t fit the same

For me, this verse rings true in a weird way. Over the course of New Year’s Eve, I couldn’t help but think of where I was a year ago, and how it feels like my life is a set of interchangeable parts, and that half of these parts have been exchanged for similar but ultimately different ones over the course of this year. In the grand scheme of things, I suppose that I’m in a very similar position to the one that I was in a year ago, but it definitely doesn’t feel the same; there are too many parts of me that are different, too many new passions, and too many scars that remind me that mistakes have been, and are yet to be, made.

Sometimes I wish I could go back to where I was a year ago, to have a second chance at all of the different experiences. It’s an overwhelming thing to think about – if I was to go back a year, and have another shot at all the experiences, how much could I actually change, considering my life is one string in a very intricate web that may not budge as easily as I’d like to think. Even if there’s no use in thinking about this, and it’s all a moot point, I still like to think about it. I think that it helps to look back at the end of an old year/beginning of a new year, when most emotional biases that occur can be seen through, and the small pieces of good that can be found. I like to think that the second verse of “White Knuckles” would support this exercise of looking back:

So come and let it all out, let it bleed
Did you get what you want, did you get what you need?
Behind the lines, behind the wall
Tell me what’s the bet you made, was it that bad after all?

I feel like it’s pretty cliché to say that every day is a chance that you take, but I’ll indulge it in this case – really, if there’s any lesson to be learned from 2016, it’s that nothing is secure. That being said, the questions posed by this verse are interesting when put in the perspective of an entire year. The question of what I truly needed out of 2016 is a lot tougher to answer than what I wanted. What I wanted was for some of the aforementioned parts that were replaced to be fixed instead, and in hindsight, it’s highly likely that it’s not what I needed. Even though I’ll never get a re-roll for the chances that were taken this year, it’s likely for the best, because a lot of good things wouldn’t have come about without the bad.

Of course, that being said, change can be terrifying. The whole idea that, after the chaotic maelstrom of 2016, a new year begins just to take another roll, another risk of having to replace some parts that you’d rather just keep around, isn’t fun to think about. I’m sure that a lot of us may come into this year with expectations of great change, set by ourselves or those around us. To those who are struggling with that, I find a consolation in the final verse:

So just have fun, it’s far enough
Everybody needs to sleep at night, everybody needs a crutch
But couldn’t good, be good enough?
Cause nothin’ ever doesn’t change, but nothin’ changes much

Even though it’s practically impossible to keep everything the same as it is at the start (nor is it ideal in most, if not all cases), the chances are that changes will take a lot of time, rather than being an overnight situation, and there will hopefully be many chances that you will have to prevent or provoke the change.

I think that, more than anything, it’s important to reflect on the third line. Even though it’s good and human to continue striving, if it turns into discontent and self-loathing, the goal of improvement turns against itself. I struggle with that a lot – whenever a good thing comes around, I like to take it for granted and make it the new standard for myself. That’s not a problem, until I fail to reach the new high, and then hate myself for it. I know I’m not alone in doing this, and so I have this own challenge, for myself and anyone else who wants to take it up: let’s remind each other that we are good enough, for taking the chance of taking on the new year, of making it through the past year, and for putting themselves together with the parts that they’ve been given.

Don’t just remind each other, but remind yourself. Even if this year is going to be one that you’ll have go through white-knuckle, remember that you’re good enough, and when you reach the end of the year you can relax and realize the good that happens, like the chorus of the song:

White knuckles
Yeah maybe it’s not so bad
So let your hair down now

White knuckles
Maybe it’s not so bad
Just let it all come down now

Building and Breaking

I’ve been a long time fan of Relient K. It seems like their music continues to grow and evolve over time; I can attest, as I have been listening to them since middle school, and their sound has definitely changed since then. All this makes me want to post about “Local Construction”, a song from their newest album, Air For Free. This song has a pretty thoughtful meaning centering on the idea of change and improvement over time, even though most of it is gleaned through the chorus and not the verses (they primarily contain similes relating to construction). I feel like that’s something that’s been on my mind recently, so I’m excited about diving in.

After the various similes presented in the verses, there is a simple refrain presented:

Work on it, work at it
Work but it’s never done

If anyone has spent five seconds in the booming football-centered metropolis of Tuscaloosa, they can understand this sentiment. There are countless construction projects that are happening all over the place, and often times, since I pass by them almost every day, it seems like there is no progress being made. I’ve felt like this most of this summer when I see this work being done. Now, however some projects are done, and others are mere days away from being finished, all while I was sitting in traffic wondering how everything can be so slow and take so long.

I like to think that there is a very interesting parallel here between construction and going through life. Relient K shows this in their chorus, which I will put the majority of my focus on in this post:

Fix the car, Fix the house
Fix the flaws in myself, it’s never done

Most of our lives seem to go towards improving things, or fixing things. Early in our lives, we go to school and improve our knowledge and skill set for later in our lives, where we use these to be able to buy new things, fix what we have, or fix it ourselves. Like the chorus of this song says though, it never really seems to end. There’s always that next thing we want to get, or that next problem that has come up that needs fixing, and so on. I feel like sometimes that can get very wearisome – focusing on whats ahead at all times can make us forget the things that we’ve achieved already in moving forward.

Now, I’m not going to say “you should take some time to sit back and smell the roses”. I feel like that might not be the best way to go about this, it seems like countering black with white and hoping that you end up with gray. Maybe there’s something else we can do to make our everlasting quest for improvement more enjoyable, something that gives us things to appreciate while we continue on; after all, as Relient K says, it’s never really done. I believe I’ve stumbled across what may be part of the answer over this summer, while dealing with these issues myself.

Over these past few months, I couldn’t shake this feeling that everything feels different now, that the ongoing process of attempting to fix and improve the lives of myself and others has brought me to a place that felt alien to where I was at a year ago. A year ago, I was at Pine Cove, a summer camp, running sound, and when I came home, it truly felt like I was returning home, with everything being basically the same way as I left it. This summer, however, I decided to stay, get my puppy Taiko, and try and work on composing. Oddly enough, I feel like what I call “home” has changed since then, like this whole place is different. Not just because of the local construction, but also because of all the changes that are being made. I’m a junior now, which means that I have to begin thinking of things in terms of graduate school, and working on long term plans. I’m also no longer in the basic classes at the beginning of my major, but instead in the more specialized classes that appear later on. Then there’s the biggest change of all, which has grown out of myself, as I go into later. All of this, however, made me more upset than anything else, because it didn’t necessarily feel good per se, but rather alarmingly different from what I had realized.

For those of you who don’t know, or haven’t read my first post, my experiences with the darker, more emotional side of things is relatively new, and ended up hitting me really hard over the 2016 spring semester. In order to combat it while continuing to deal with school and work, I decided to go to counseling. It wasn’t difficult for me to go, as I am very quick to admit my own faults, and I really enjoy taking time to look into the how’s and why’s of my trains of thought and dysmorphic thinking. One thing I realize now, however, is that I came in without truly thinking that I was going to improve at all; I just thought that I was fixing the things that had broken in me over the past months before then, getting rid of the intense pain that was happening at the current time.

I decided recently that I would end my counseling sessions when the fall semester begins, so that I can prepare and make sure I have everything in order. I began counseling around 6 months ago, and I’m surprised by how much I underestimated its usefulness. I never really thought about any of the improvements I might have been making, as I was too busy thinking in week-by-week terms. This changed when, as part of me nearing the ending of my counseling,  my counselor and I looked over the list of goals that we agreed I would try to make progress towards, and began to see what has changed in these areas since our initial session. I won’t go into detail and bring all of that out, but let me just say, I never even really knew that things had changed so much for the better until we took that time to check on the progress made.

So maybe that’s why everything feels so different now. I see things differently, and the improvements that I’ve worked towards have created progress that I didn’t realize was existent until now. Looking at all of these things, I no longer feel alarmed, confused, or upset, but I can confidently say that I am proud. Proud of what I’ve accomplished, and how much progress has been made.

Really, that’s what I think part of the solution is to the wearisome times that we face when we’re on the grind. While we keep moving on, we can contemplate the differences in comparing then to now, and use it to give ourselves motivation and a sense of accomplishment, to let ourselves know that nothing has been in vain, and we work to improve ourselves for a reason.

So, just like local construction, which is constantly working on fixing old things and building new, over time making the town a better place as a whole, we move forward in life, learning, working, oftentimes without giving thought to how much better we are from where we once were. Maybe, however, giving these things thought will give us greater appreciation for ourselves and the things that we’ve done, and that is deeply needed for everyone.

Flatlining

Switchfoot has been in the music scene for a pretty long time, with their 10th album, Where the Light Shines Through, released this month. I have a very special place in my heart for this band –  I have so much reverence for “Dare You to Move” that I only listen to it on special occasions. Though many people know about Switchfoot, fewer people know about the lead singer, Jon Foreman, and his own solo project. While it takes on a less rocky side of his musical voice, his solo project is full of thoughtful and reflective tracks, including the one I want to look into this time around, “Terminal”.

“Terminal” is part of Jon Foreman’s most recent project, The Wonderlands, which is a set of four six-song EPs: Dawn, Sunlight, Shadows, and Darkness. These twenty-four songs are meant to represent the twenty-four hours of each day, and the thoughts and feelings that are generally felt at these times. “Terminal” is part of Sunlight, and revolves around the idea of our bodies being terminal, and how that should change our approaches towards this brief window of time we call our lives. I think that, in these turbulent times of violence, one thing that all sides of any argument can argue is that we’re getting more fearful than ever because of these constant reminders of the inevitability of death, which is only bringing more polarization and anger.

With that in mind, I’d like to share the first verse with you all:

The doctor says I’m dying
I die a little everyday
But there ain’t no prescription that could
Take my death away
The doctor says it don’t look so good
It’s terminal

Some folks die in offices one day at a time
They could live a hundred years
But their soul’s already dying
Don’t let your spirit die before your body does
We’re terminal

In a song that centers around our mortality, I find it fitting to bring up that interesting perspective-granting thought. I feel like this idea comes up in conversations randomly, about how we’re constantly dying. It really sucks to think about, but sometimes it’s all one can really do, especially in dark times. I admit, the thought can be really hard to shrug off since there truly is no cure.

Just because life is short, however, does not mean that it isn’t significant; thus, we should treat it with significance rather than wasting it on getting by. I think that a lot of our lives goes towards upkeep, spending hours working to stay where we are. This is fine at times, but can often lead to a sort of soulless repetition. I think that when we are in these repetitive ruts, the solution is to hold on to the things that make us feel alive, the things that give life to our souls. Our physical bodies have always had the instinctive drive to survive, but I don’t think our souls have been given this drive. That being said, I think our souls have their own way of trying to live, and it shows up when we feel the most fulfilled. For me, it shows up when I do things like write or listen to music, or blog, or hang out with my dog. Finding these things, and keeping them as a part of our lives, is what is essential to keeping our souls alive.

That’s one reflection I have on this song. The second, and possibly more relevant point, can be gleaned from the second verse:

Whenever I start cursing at the traffic or the phone
I remind myself that we have all got cancer in our bones
Don’t yell at the dead, show a little respect
It’s terminal

I’ve been thinking about this verse a lot recently. I think that we are very quick to get caught up in only our own perspective – after all, it’s much easier to believe in what we think, because we came to that conclusion ourselves. Keep in mind, however, that so did everyone else with their own opinions! Nobody wants to believe in something wrong; our lives are too short to live for false causes. This necessity to believe that the causes we support are correct in turn causes us to antagonize all other beliefs that do not support the same methods. This leads to disagreement, which all too often just leads to angry arguments where both sides will refuse to concede even an inch. If I start thinking too much about this, I end up falling into an anxious spell, and I’d like to think that there’s a better way to go about this. I like to think that Jon has a deeper point in this verse than just calming oneself in times of frustration with traffic or phones. Maybe we can take into account this idea that everyone is trying their best to make the world a better place before they depart, and that every opinion held is their attempt to make the world a better place. Use this thought to try and find out how they came to the conclusion that what they believe is best, and the logic behind it. I think that is a possible solution that will lead to a little more calm and considerate discourse.

I feel like nowadays, everyone is angry, for their own justified reasons. Be it righteous anger about the death of yet another policeman serving this country, or the death of yet another african american for something that a white person wouldn’t be killed for,  or anger from disagreements over which candidate best suits the position of leading this country. In all honesty, I didn’t write this blog to give any polarizing opinions about these kinds of things, and I don’t feel like I know enough about anything to give an ultimatum on what I think about these issues. I do know, however, that I don’t agree with the way that we as a society have gone about with discourse over these matters. We create these echo chambers, where everyone with the same opinion get to yell out their anger towards the opposition, doing nothing but further riling up each side and making everyone angrier. There’s no love in these places. I think we should all take some time to be mindful of what different sides believe, why they believe it, and what beliefs might be the source of these differences.

I know that death can be a bummer to think about, but maybe we were given finite lives in order to give us a chance at truly discussing and coming to compromises on how to make the world a better place. At least, I hope so.
P.S.: If you would like to hear another persons thoughts on having true conversation, here’s John Green’s take.

Shattered

The Classic Crime, although definitely not the level of mainstream that Twenty One Pilots and Simon & Garfunkel have reached, are by far one of my favorite bands that I’ve had the privilege of listening to. They have been around for over ten years now, thanks in part to switching from record deals to crowdfunding their albums so that they can truly give their fans what they want. Their main singer, Matt McDonald, is a triple threat – as well as being the frontman for The Classic Crime, he is the head of BC Music, and is part of a husband-wife duo, Vocal Few, whose music I also enjoy thoroughly. I highly suggest giving at least one of the groups a listen when you get the chance.

The song I want to talk about, “Glass Houses”, is from their second most recent album, Phoenix. I’ve always liked the proverb, “those who live in glass houses should not throw stones”, and I think that this song delves deeper into the idea behind the proverb. In a society that is becoming increasingly reliant upon appearances, and fixing surface level issues just to keep up said appearances, I believe that paying a little attention to these lyrics could be a step in a more loving, open, and healthy direction.

Here is the first verse:

They talk of glass houses
Well, I built a crystal cathedral
And I took my stones to the rooftop
To play target practice with people

I feel like this is what we try to do a lot of the time – as individuals, as groups, even as a country. It’s easy to think that by hiding our imperfections and creating our glass houses, people will look straight through the glass and find someone else to criticize. If we hide our faults and weaknesses, we won’t appear as lesser to our piers. If our group avoids associating with their group, others won’t associate us with that group and their issues. If we hide the mistakes our country has made in the past, we can fool others – and ourselves – into believing that we have yet to make mistakes. Sure, it works for some. People have gone their whole lives living in glass houses, groups have found ways to hide their true issues behind false intentions, and many of America’s issues, past and present, have been swept under the rug in favor of avoiding the guilt that we face for what we have done. I believe, however, that all glass houses will fall down, be it during or after their use.

This brings me to the first pre-chorus:

I was too young to know the difference
I was just following orders
But when the glass shattered around me
I learned a good lesson about my disorder

This, I believe, is a common reason behind the creation of glass houses – it is truly what our society tells us, often from birth. While opening ourselves and our imperfections up to everyone has no apparent benefits, hiding these imperfections ensures avoidance of any pain to occur from opening up. We are told that we should always be happy, and that any negative deviation from happiness is a sign of us doing something wrong. I, for one, think that this is false, and that all emotion should be recognized, for what is a mountain without a valley to compare it to? This is not to say we shouldn’t attempt to search for happiness; rather, we should recognize our lack thereof so that those who are close to us can help us find it once more. The way I see it, hiding the more negative emotions that people don’t like to see has two possible outcomes. First, it can lead us into a delusion of believing that the version of us that hides emotions is our true self, leading to a more muted life, with the mountains and valleys of life shrinking into one great plain. Second, these hidden emotions can build up inside, creating an unbearable pain that will set itself off without warning. Neither of these end in a positive way, and neither are attempting to go up against the source of this madness, this ground zero of our common disorder.

The second verse of the song continues to describe the process and reasoning behind attempts to build glass houses, but the second pre-chorus is what I would like to focus on next:

Somewhere deep down you know the difference
Between love and following orders
And if the chorus I sing is offensive
It’s proof that you’ve yet to address your disorder

I think that hidden in the first two lines is the secret to beginning a journey to fixing this issue of glass houses. By saying that there’s a difference between love and following orders, there is a very important point to be made: hiding ourselves in glass houses is not love.

One thing that I’ve always stood behind, although I’ll be the first to say I suck at it most of the time, is that love is being open. Lying to those that you love may seem to make sense by avoiding pain in the moment, but the pain that comes when the lie falls apart is devastating. I’ve found that the more I’ve opened up to the people I hold near to me, the more I’ve found support and love, and the more that people have opened up to me. It’s extremely difficult at times – unlike real life, a glass house we make can be rebuilt quickly after being broken, and remaining shattered takes a great deal of effort. It can be painful as well (this is where I put in the cheesy analogy of walking on shards of glass), but trust me when I say it’s worth it, even if you only open up to a few people. These glass houses are prisons, and by showing how broken we truly are, we can be set free.

Today’s Dance

Twenty One Pilots is one of the newer bands in the popular music scene, with “Stressed Out” getting their name out there and peaking at #2 at the charts and “Ride” peaking at #15. All of these songs are part of their newest album, Blurryface, which is a sort of concept album that deals with the singer’s struggles with his anxiety and mental issues, which he separates from himself and titles Blurryface, thus the title. I highly recommend listening to the album, it is probably my favorite album of all time, and it helped me through some pretty rough times. I could write a billion blog posts about TØP and still have more to say, but I think I’d prefer to keep some variety on this blog.

That being said, the song that I want to look into today is from Blurryface, titled “Fairly Local”. This song is pretty simple, with only two verses, two pre-choruses, and many choruses, but the theme of the song, revolving around separating our true selves from our struggles in order to fight against them, is what makes this song special to me. The two verses of this song stand out to me, as they can represent a way to start this separation.

Here is the first verse:

I’m evil to the core
What I shouldn’t do I will
They say I’m emotional
What I want to save I’ll kill
Is that who I truly am?
I truly don’t have a chance
Tomorrow I’ll keep a beat
And repeat yesterday’s dance

To me, this represents how I feel when I’m deep in the darker parts of my head. This could center around myself, when I’m worried that I’m failing as a student, or brother, or friend. It could also center around the world in general, because I tend to fall into pretty dark places when I think too much about all the horrible things that continue to happen, and how often when so many people want the right thing, our good intentions take different paths and end up destroying each other – leaving us right where we started, a destructive interference of intention. My head finds a way to block all possible positive and uplifting thoughts when I’m in this state, instead opting to put up a nebulous cloud of self-hatred and hopelessness, and any attempts to fight it just makes things worse. It’s really hard to do anything in this state – I get to feeling like my world is drowning in noise, and these thoughts just keep repeating like a song stuck in my head. I lose my ability to focus, to be present in the world and maintain thoughtfulness and perspective, and resort to just idling by for however long it takes for these feelings and thoughts to fade. It feels almost impossible to get out of this state, and to be honest, I doubt that I’ll ever come up with a foolproof way to fight it. But does that mean that this state of mind is truly me, or that this world is truly left to fall to this entropic evil? Is this inevitably going to affect me every time darkness comes around?

There are some days when I think so, especially since this year has stared; however, good days remind me that this doesn’t have to be true, and I think the second verse of “Fairly Local” reinforces that idea:

I’m not evil to the core
What I shouldn’t do I will fight
I know I’m emotional
What I want to save I will try
I know who I truly am
I truly do have a chance
Tomorrow I’ll switch the beat
To avoid yesterday’s dance

I’ve recently come into this mentality that a lot of my life truly is affected by choice. Of course some things are near impossible to avoid, and one can never control another’s actions, but there truly is an impact that can be made by trying. I choose to believe that there is good in this world, good in me, that’s worth fighting the dark parts for. After all, even though people are constantly arguing over how to fix things that are broken in this world, decisions are gradually made that have made this world a better place than years ago. Even though I have a lot of issues, it has allowed me to empathize with some people who may have things worse than me, and ensure that they don’t feel alone. Even though I will fall into these states of darkness, I can choose to talk to someone about it.

Reaching outside of my dark state to talk to someone about what I’m going through is my personal way of switching the beat. At the times where I was at the worst, I tried to reach out, and even if those who I reached out couldn’t empathize very well with what I was going through, I found out that a lot of people in my life truly do care about me. Honestly, it may not have taken away all the dark feelings that I felt, but it did reinforce the side of me that fought against it, which was just as helpful for me.

One of the things that I love most about this song is the way that this idea of fighting the darker side of yourself is approached through the two verses. These two verses sound almost exactly the same. They have the same melody, contain many of the same words, the same number of lines, takes up the same amount of time musically, and are almost identical rhythmically.

Almost.

In the second verse, Tyler Joseph, the vocalist, truly does switch up the beat. He alters some words to change the verse into something that concedes with its predecessor but refuses to give up hope. The second and fourth line have syllables added to them, giving a subtle shift, increasing effort verbally to reinforce this idea of not losing hope. I think there’s a great deal of wisdom that can be taken from that… maybe switching up the beat can be done in little ways. It doesn’t have to be a grand declaration of drastic change and world-changing activism. Instead, it could be reaching out to someone who you think could use a hand, or taking a step towards finding the light when you’re surrounded by darkness. There are so many stories about people doing such small things that end up being immortalized in someone else’s memory as a symbol of hope or reminder of worth, so why don’t we do more of these little acts of kindness, and increase the chance of making others feel this kind of hope? If everyone finds little ways to switch up the beat in this way, I think we can avoid yesterday’s dance.

If anyone who is reading this feels trapped inside themselves in the way I mentioned earlier, surrounded by anxiety, depression, or some other dark part, I hope reading this encourages you to reach out. You are brave, and worthy of the love you give others, so please try to talk to someone – and if you don’t feel comfortable talking with anyone else near you, my inbox is always open.

Hello Darkness, My New Friend

“The Sound of Silence” is, without a doubt, one of the most popular songs by Simon and Garfunkel. Its release hit #1 in the U.S., charted in several other nations, and has been covered by all sorts of people in all sorts of genres, including heavy metal band Disturbed. As successful as it is, it makes me wonder if many of those who have enjoyed this song have also thought about one of the major themes of this hit – lack of emotional communication between people. This hits me on a very personal level: with suicide rates ever so high and mental health issues rising, having people to communicate with emotionally is a necessity. So, I’d like to look into this song and highlight some of the lines that mean a lot to me, and then give a little look into my experience with this amalgam of mental disparity and isolation that we call Darkness.

The whole first verse, to me, is a good example of how this Darkness may start to creep in.

Hello darkness, my old friend
I’ve come to talk to you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In my experience, a lot of my anxieties stem from dreams – not necessarily just while sleeping, but daydreaming, or any time when I’m left alone to my thoughts. These anxious ideas will develop (worst-case scenarios involving my relationship with someone that I care about, paranoid feelings that recent successes are somehow leading to inevitable failure, overthinking about whatever I’m doing at the moment and what effects it may have on people, etc.) and I will refuse to talk to anyone about it. This can be made especially easy in times when I’m alone often, like when I’m working or doing school work. This silence gives me ample time to think even more about it, and my anxiety ends up at a point where it’s hard to focus on anything since I’m too busy obsessing over these ideas. This often ends up with me telling someone, but the silence in between conception and confession feels like an eternity of self-torture that no one deserves.

This brings me to another couple of lines that I would like to highlight:

People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening

Mental health is a very prominent issue, but a combination of unnecessary social taboo and self-doubt make it extremely hard to talk about, even to those that we love. Many end up bottling up their issues, which ends up being taken out on themselves or the ones that they care about. This, in my understanding, is our way of asking for help without directly saying anything. These moments of hurting others can say a lot, but it still takes time and thought to come to the conclusion that those who they are close to are struggling. Many people are fortunate enough to not have to deal with the more intense mental health issues, and thus do not have the kind of firsthand experience that makes it easier to pick up on cues that show someone else is struggling. Their fortune turns into their close one’s misfortune when they are unable to extrapolate the hidden meaning behind their action – thus “hearing” their cries without truly being able to “listen”.

So, the solution? I believe that Simon and Garfunkel present it in the next verse:

“Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you”

It may sound simple, but I think it’s actually pretty tough. It takes work on both sides, and when we’re aiming for a target that’s this unclear, there’s going to be many mishaps. But wouldn’t it be worth it? Being close and open with each other about the things that for some reason we feel like we should hold close to the chest can make us feel vulnerable, and weak. But who in this world is truly strong? I think Voltaire had it right when he said

“We are all full of weakness and errors; let us mutually pardon each other of our follies – it is the first law of nature”

So, with a grand perspective of humility, let’s do a little less hearing and a little more listening. Listen to those who struggle, let them teach you about their calls for help. And for those who struggle, let’s take the helping hand that those who care about us offer, and show them that we appreciate them. We all deserve to love and feel loved, and doing these things will help bring us on step closer to achieving this.

For me, Darkness is a little bit more of a new friend. Maybe it’s because I’ve always been a little more altruistic in my line of thinking with people, and I’ve hidden my issues behind different personality traits. Recently, however, that’s become less viable; Darkness is around with most of my thoughts, and the sound of silence is all too inviting to it. It’s around when I start to care about people, and finds a way to twist all of my actions into ways that I’m probably annoying them. It’s there when I open up about my mental health, telling me that I’m bothering them and they won’t understand or want to help. It’s there when I read about yet another tragedy striking yet another town, or yet another article or Facebook post about how the world is getting worse. This Darkness tells me that I shouldn’t try to believe in myself, or others, that there’s no use. To be honest, there’s been many days where the Darkness wins.

But I refuse to let it win every day. And I have some friends and family who are here for me in my fight, and prove the Darkness wrong. I refuse to lose my belief that people can do good, and that love wins in the end. It’s a longer road than pessimism and nihilism, but maybe the journey of life deserves the scenic route.