When feeling especially superior, I like to think of myself as a philosopher – one who thinks too much. Therefore, to justify my laziness, I use the phrase “paralysis by analysis”. Instead of confronting my weaknesses, I seem to drape them in philosophical terms so that I may feel better about myself. I long to be “deep”, but the line between genuine depth and teenage sullenness is but a hair’s breadth. Am I being self-deprecating or is this the truth that I write? Alas, I cannot answer, for I view myself through warped glasses that distort the truth faster than I can realize.


Thinking too much can be defined as making simple tasks into paralyzing complexities. I often find myself doing this with schoolwork. In the end, nothing gets accomplished, what with me having wasted countless hours as a result of seeing the task ahead as monumentally difficult. Perhaps I am lazy, for the very act of avoidance of challenges speaks for itself. It also indicates that I allow fear to dictate my actions.


I am at a deadlock. What I have conjured so far sounds reasonable: I come across as if I understand my problems, yet I do not feel as though I have reached an epiphany or any sort of action-inducing conclusion.


This sort of intense self-absorption brings more disturbing aspects of my character to the surface. I must admit that I possess an inflated ego. To think so highly and frequently of myself is a definite marker of shameless narcissism. Contrasting with this ego is my lack of self-confidence. This is rather paradoxical: I haven’t fully grasped the relationship between these two factors in defining my (lack of) character.


I’m beginning to realize that I’m one to demand instantaneous results. I expect to have the answer after minimal effort. I expect to have an epiphany any time now. My laziness is again being alluded to.


I may speak as though I understand what needs to be done, but understanding is far from action. I simply seem to be thinking in circles, growing more frustrated than enlightened. Perhaps I’m missing another piece of the puzzle altogether; the piece that represents a higher level of understanding that will ultimately allow me to come to terms with myself. Perhaps it is wrong to think of this as just one piece: it could be that I am missing many pieces that can only be filled with time and experience. Sooner or later, I must learn to cast away my impatience, a tall feat to accomplish.


I must reiterate my growing sense of confliction – I write as if I have the answer, yet I do not follow my own advice. The futility of it all is crushing. Why can’t I simply accept my current state of mind? With acceptance comes understanding, without which I cannot hope to advance.