The more I learn, the less I know - at least, the less I know for sure. Nowadays, it seems as though I don't have a firm opinion on anything. Thanks to the analytical skills that have been ingrained into my mind, everything is gray for me. That beautiful, childish black and white is no longer separated by a nice, straight line anymore. Everything is nuanced; all that varies are the shades of gray in my mind. I'm not sure about anything anymore. I see good and bad in everything; beauty and ugliness, joy and sorrow, steady and weak - they're all ambiguous.
I envy those who can firmly argument anything for extended amounts of time. Even as I try to make my point, arguments in favour of the opposite opinion pop into my mind, unbidden and unwanted, yet relentless. By the end of a debate, I can't stop mulling over what my own actual opinion is. While everyone else around me is bickering bitterly, my head swings side to side, nodding now at one, then at the other. Am I really that easily influenceable? The thought saddens and worries me.
Once in awhile, though, I'll see the light. That one stray ray of brightness - almost white in its certainty. Like a flash, it comes and goes before I can even register what has happened. Those moments - those moments of absolute, wonderful certainty - that's when I feel the adrenaline rush, the shift of an out-of-focus world righting itself, the sense of peace. My eyes open wide, both literally and figuratively. I suddenly know - I do have an opinion. No longer is a shadow cast over light, or light shone into dark. Everything looks crisper, cleaner, clearer. I can make judgement and stand by those decisions.
But these moments are short-lived. With dread, I sink back into doubt, into that disgusting gray.
Truly... growing up is growing gray. In more ways than one.
No tildes for this post. Tildes suggest a certain lightness. Uncertainty is too dark for that.
