Far Far Yael Naim- Yael Naim
It is midday on an overcast yet not quite gloomy Saturday, and it is one of those days in which productivity skips away tauntingly; the best I can hope to do is to gaze off and acceptingly watch it fleet away. Sometimes it happens, and I suppose I am okay with that.
Today I exist in a sphere of binaries, a place in which total contradictions of being befuddle my lazy mind. My thoughts flutter across concepts and emotions at an unrepressed speed, and yet, I cannot focus on a single one long enough to craft a concrete idea. I feel as if the world around me continues to live, as I sit here immobilized. I, however, departed from the present place and time almost as soon as I sat down. My inability to concentrate frustrates me, for there I have feelings that need articulating and thoughts that need developing. Books need reading and posts need posting, but all I can do is sit here, sit here and attempt to think. Attempt failed.
So, eventually I succumb. I replace Rousseau within the confines of my book bag, and I just listen. Not to the world around me, not to the dozens of students who currently thrive at my failed attempts to study. I carefully insert my earphones and it is Yael Naim to whom I listen.
It is no longer midday on an overcast Saturday, for I think it is fair to call this time early evening. I also no longer suffer from the confusion of my contradicted state of being. Naim soothes my mind, and, while it still flutters, I have learned one thing: acceptance. My feelings are irrational and my thoughts unnecessary, for there are certain things that I cannot control. My insecurities, they are natural and uncontrollable. Some advocate a dispensing of these insecurities, an attempt to overcome them and gain a certain confidence. I say, nay. They are mine, and I proudly claim them. I will not rule my life by them, but I refuse to cast away my most innate, involuntary reactions to life.
So here I sit, fleeting thoughts and fluttering images cascading around the inner walls of my mind. All are foolish and I know it. But, I step to the middle and gently lie down, eyes calmly examining the shapes and colors that cast themselves across my world. And it is okay. Me, you, we, it, the world: we are all okay. We think the way that we think because we are the way that we are. To be truly loved is to be loved for these insecurities, accepted for the unique way in which we, as individuals, irrationalize the world. And that is more than okay.
“How can you stay outside? There’s a beautiful mess inside.”
