Failure

After high school, I had set out to be the exact opposite of everyone else. I told myself I would never be the reason another person felt pain, physical or emotional. Last night, I took a look at the way I've been behaving these past few months, and was disappointed to recognize my selfishness and apathy.
I should've been crystal clear with him. I can't believe it didn't hit me then.

"Clytaemnestra I'm not anxious, you'll soon be dead"

Tonight, I spent an hour resting in my car, listening to Picture Atlantic's "Cassandra" over and over again before deciding to drive home. Honestly, this immediate, unlimited freedom is refreshing to someone who spent most of her life having to sneak around (though, I must admit, in retrospect, it was rather fun and even exciting). But anyway, listening to Nick Bartunek hit those ridiculously high notes while staring at the night sky was the most relaxation I have experienced in the past few months. I no longer meditate for the sake of my soul (and sanity), like I used to, primarily due to my lack of religious belief. Of course, I'm not implying that meditation is only for believers; the form I was most familiar with however, necessitates counting beads while focusing on the glory of God. And the idea of a higher being is something I find implausible at this point, which is something I've come to terms with after a long, seemingly never-ending struggle of faith vs. reason.
Yet, because of the beauty or perhaps pure sincerity in his voice, I was able to tranquilize.
Finally.

"Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence."