Ataraxia

 Here I stand at the center of so many conflicts. A lone island against the seas of anger, hate, violence. A gray miasma surrounds me. Truly Ataraxia is the solution, right? To find pure intellectual centrism, after all the solution to all societal ills must exist in the center, right? Through Ataraxia we are safe, bubble-wrapped from all potential dangerous worldviews, opinions, and perspectives. If severe clinical depression taught me anything. Is that trying to reach out from my own bubble is scary and painful. People will hurt you, your hands grow cracked and rubbed raw from pushing out. Your fingernails split and bleed as you claw your way out to find other human connections. 

 I used to believe that Ataraxia was the solution to all my problems. To deny, block out and refuse change. But to atrophy within my own thoughts solves nothing, and only serves to keep me scared of what could be. If I refuse to reach out, to find connection to my fellow man, I will never be saved. Only by understanding each other and trying, can we truly change for the better.