oh i swear i have nothing to prove

erin mcguire

The joke used to be that I was like a robot. I even have a picture a friend drew me (for my birthday?) of me as a robot, with freckles and glasses, with my "emotion" plug unplugged. It was funny I guess, that I could handle myself really well in any stressful situation or time management dilemna that only relied on logic and reason for everything to get done. Any time a situation presented itself that dealt with any emotion, I tried to react logically, but when that failed (for when are emotions logical, anyway?) I'd shut down.

I suppose art, music, writing, all those things, were the outlet for any emotion I didn't feel I should share with other people. I don't share the best of me, I've realized. Not until you get under my skin, beneath the wires and circuitry, do I let my guard down, do I become someone worth your time.

But I changed I guess. I'm incredibly grateful for friends at Ringling. It's startling, actually, the number of people I'd rather not go without. Either I'm going soft in my old age, or I'm starting to figure this whole thing out- There are no gains without considerable risks. Nothing easily obtained ever truly satisfies.

The consensus seems to be that everyone around me is starting to go a little crazy emotionally. For once I'm in on it. I feel like organized chaos. I feel like how my bedroom looks. We're all starting to realize we're growing, we're changing. I like that for once, I don't know how to handle something. It's terrifying. It's wonderful.

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