Rust
That annoying red layer that forms on top of iron, due to oxidation on exposure to air and/or moisture. Staying there, degrading and weakening the metal till it has to be replaced.
I have a confession to make.
I've rusted over.
Just like with iron, I don't know when it started. But as I look back, the layer of rust is startling.
Call it what you want – a thick layer of paint covers my true colors, that really the only thing that's happened is that I've narrowed myself down to one facet of what makes me, me. None of that is very appealing.
There are many things I value – languages, art, philosophy, the performing arts, acting in plays, expressing my views, reading – but the thing I focus on most is science. Rightly so, maybe, because I can't imagine my life without the pursuit of it. What I fear is how much I've left behind, and what it will take to recover it.
This is exactly what I had feared – that I would, essentially, become a shell of the person I was. I was versatile; I didn't want to lose that versatility. My mind simply doesn't veer in the directions it used to. I miss that. I don't know when it started. I've rusted over.
I don't even know why. Somewhere between gaining the ability to back my claims up with numerous pieces of evidence to only providing the answer required of me, I fear I may have lost my ability to think, in essence, my competence.
Here I have started to understand the difference between how to think and what to think. I fear in doing the latter, I have, at the very least, rendered my how to think facet latent. At worst, it may have disappeared completely.
I am aware of the scientific fact that I now have more in common with a stranger than I do with the person I was a few years ago. Maybe it's a part of growth, but it is painful. It hurts. It's much scarier now that it's happening.
Original date of writing: January 28, 2017
I have a confession to make.
I've rusted over.
Just like with iron, I don't know when it started. But as I look back, the layer of rust is startling.
Call it what you want – a thick layer of paint covers my true colors, that really the only thing that's happened is that I've narrowed myself down to one facet of what makes me, me. None of that is very appealing.
There are many things I value – languages, art, philosophy, the performing arts, acting in plays, expressing my views, reading – but the thing I focus on most is science. Rightly so, maybe, because I can't imagine my life without the pursuit of it. What I fear is how much I've left behind, and what it will take to recover it.
This is exactly what I had feared – that I would, essentially, become a shell of the person I was. I was versatile; I didn't want to lose that versatility. My mind simply doesn't veer in the directions it used to. I miss that. I don't know when it started. I've rusted over.
I don't even know why. Somewhere between gaining the ability to back my claims up with numerous pieces of evidence to only providing the answer required of me, I fear I may have lost my ability to think, in essence, my competence.
Here I have started to understand the difference between how to think and what to think. I fear in doing the latter, I have, at the very least, rendered my how to think facet latent. At worst, it may have disappeared completely.
I am aware of the scientific fact that I now have more in common with a stranger than I do with the person I was a few years ago. Maybe it's a part of growth, but it is painful. It hurts. It's much scarier now that it's happening.
Original date of writing: January 28, 2017
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