Skeptic, Or Scared?

It's four in the morning and my brain is begging me for sleep. I go to get ready for bed; I brush my teeth, wash my face, and take my contacts out. The next step is easy: walk out of the bathroom. But I can't do it. I've already taken a look in the mirror.

It's at times like this- with your brain already ticked at you for making it stay up so late, your thoughts barely coherent, eyes unable to focus- that some people would say that you're vulnerable to your own thoughts, but it's more than that. You're vulnerable to your own truths. In this state of mind, at this time of night, you're able to see past the image that you've created for yourself and into what you really are. I lean on the sink, getting closer to the mirror. I see my reflection, but I don't recognize myself. I have separated from my body and am now an outside observer.

There is no longer a mirror, just a boy leaning up against the sink. I look at him as he stares at me, emotionless. I can see inside of him, into all of his thoughts and memories. I can feel what he's felt and remember what he's done. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that this boy was me. But I know he's not, because I am outside of him, able to see from more than just his perspective. This boy needs me. He needs me to tell him what I see, so I do:

You want to know why you're skeptical. You never believe anything all the way. I look at you and I can see only one, maybe two, things you completely believe. How does that feel? It feels empty, doesn't it? Your skepticism is going to be your downfall. Look at how it affects all aspects of your life.


For starters, your relationships. And not just romantic relationships, but with anyone. It shows a lack of trust. You can't believe them 100% and figure that it's probably the same for them. "But that's okay," you think. You manage to justify it to yourself.

It won't just affect relationships, either. Being skeptical also affects your religion. It's not that you're just skeptical about the Bible and things that are taught in the church, but also that you can't fully believe that none of it happened. You can't even fully believe in other, more scientific possibilities. "But that's okay," you think, and you justify that to yourself as well.


You can't even decide on a career for yourself. You're filled with doubt. Doubt in your own abilities, doubt in your own choices, and doubt in your own passion. The only reason you're doing what you're doing now is because it's working towards the only job you can picture yourself having. "But that's okay. Isn't that a perfectly good reason to do what I'm doing?" you think, and you justify that to yourself. 


With everything you do and everything you have, you have that little seed of skepticism in the back of your mind. And every time, you justify it to yourself. It's never going to go away like that. You know it needs to go away, though. You wonder to yourself why you're so skeptical about everything.

It's because being skeptical is safe. It's your automatic response with everything you encounter. You never go for anything with everything you have, because if you fail then you know for a fact that you weren't good enough. And that's your biggest fear, that you won't be enough. Well, you'll never be enough unless you can completely commit to something. 


Look at all the people you admire. All of them have one thing in common: their passion for what they do has led them to be able to commit their entire lives to what they do. They have no doubt that the are doing what they love, and they're able to pursue it without any skepticism. 

You only want to do that. That is the reason you admire them instead of existing with them as a peer. Until you actually do that, they will all be better than you- and you will only be able to continue admiring them.


You don't dare pursue anything like they have, because you're too scared that you won't be good enough at what you do. So you remain skeptical of everything for safety. It's so you can at least say, "Well, I knew in the back of my mind that it wouldn't happen," to yourself. "Maybe if I had tried harder," you'll think in retrospect. You know, though, that as long as you remain skeptical you'll never be able to say, "I couldn't have tried any harder," and that is why you won't succeed if you stay like this.


But you still think that it's safer to stay skeptical. If you never fully believe in something, you can't ever fully have something. And if you never fully have something, then it can never be fully taken away. That's your reasoning because having something you completely believe in taken away hurts more than almost anything. You know this; it's happened to you before, and you don't want it to happen again. But you need to realize that you're sacrificing something much greater than the pain from loss: the joy from having and believing. You will always be living in some boring average of pain and joy, and that is why you won't be completely happy if you stay like this.


You don't want to risk being not good enough, so you play it safe by being skeptical. But in doing this, you are forcing yourself to become average- the one thing you don't want to be. If you stay like this, the only outcome is that you become your only fear.



The boy looks away from me; it is time to go to sleep. I don't feel anything. I watch him as he turns and walks out of the bathroom. I turn off the light and he shuts the door behind me. He looks uneasy. He continues down the hall as I yawn. He turns the corner and rubs my eyes tiredly. He is upset. I walk into his room and lay down on my bed. He pulls the blanket over me and rests my head on his pillow. I close his eyes as he lays on my side. I feel his pain. In one last conscious moment, I turn over and open our eyes, realizing that I am that boy.