May, Myself, and I – Black & White, Conscience

Black & White (May 15)

My first thought with this topic is to discuss how the world is not black and white, how most life and society works in a more ambiguous gray zone. But honestly, I don’t have a lot to say about that. The world isn’t black and white, period.

So I’m actually going to focus more on color.

Black is a hue that takes up a significant portion of my wardrobe.
I don’t wear jeans, ever. In the summer this means I wear lots of fun, cute skirts, sometimes shorts, but in the winter I have fewer options (if I don’t want to freeze my ass off, that is). So all winter, for the last 6 months, I’ve been wearing yoga pants. Black yoga pants. Every single day. (I do just want to clarify that I have several pairs of black yoga pants, I’m not just constantly wearing the same pair day after day.)

The rest of my wardrobe doesn’t have much more color than that. I have lots of grays and darker colors. I love to wear green, and my fiance (whose favorite color is blue) has really gotten me to a place where I love blues as well.

On the opposite side of that spectrum, in the white category, I own very little. In fact, I own exactly one white t-shirt, and absolutely nothing else in that color.

Conscience (May 16)

I have an incredibly powerful guilty conscience. Not only is this a major factor in my daily anxiety (worrying constantly about unintentionally doing something to hurt or upset someone), but it makes me a terrible liar.

It doesn’t matter what the lie is, even if it’s a white lie meant to save someone’s feelings, I struggle.

That’s not to say that I don’t ever lie. If it’s going to save me from an awkward or personal conversation with a stranger (like a receptionist or someone like that), I’ll lie in that situation. In general, though, I prefer to think of it as stretching the truth or simply leaving out facts.

White lies are what I really struggle with. If I’m blatantly honest with myself, I tend to be a pretty shallow person (another weight on my conscience). I know what I find attractive or aesthetically pleasing, and if something is not that way and I’m in a situation where I have to find a way to compliment or say something nice about it, I find it almost painfully difficult. But I also find silence in those situations painfully awkward, so it’s really a lose-lose situation.

Another way that I find my conscience to be peculiar is in withholding information. Any time I think, “well, so-and-so doesn’t need to hear about this thing,” I immediately feel guilty and feel compelled to tell them what I was thinking, even if it’s something meaningless.

What can I say, our brains are weird, and mine is most definitely not an exception.

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