Pyrphoros

Although this is not the first post on this blog, I feel that this is the inaugural post, for this will most likely set the stage for what is to come text wise.

As with most of the posts I will post on this blog, I am writing this when I should be doing something else, such as studying or sleeping, the two primary activities of a college student.

I suppose that I should start this with a history lesson, although quite possibly most of you who read this will know some of this as you are probably a family member or a Facebook friend who find and read this blog when I inevitably reveal this on Facebook. Which I suppose is the point of a blog - to be read by people who would be interested in what is being written. This is of course true for a medium sized portion of my friends, as most of you, not to sound mean/sad, have most likely forgotten about me or plainly don’t give a shit what I have to say. But this is not for you so please close this tab and move on. Those of you who do care, however, please leave a comment to tell me you read this, but I digress.

History, more specifically your personal history, is a very interesting thing. Some people hate their own history and wish to forget it and move on, while others, like myself, cherish it because it is a reminder of the best years our lives so far. I probably have no right, being as I am just a young man of 20, to be this nostalgic, but my 4 years in high school were probably the best years of my life, at least so far. These 3 years at Ohio University have been enjoyable, but not nearly as much as high school. I had many more friends, a hobby I enjoyed immensely but did not continue in college as I figured that it would never be as good, which could possibly been a mistake on my part, and I lived life fuller than I do now.

For those who don’t know I am majoring in Psychology, with aspirations to become a therapist to help people deal with and solve their problems. Interestingly enough, I believe that one of the reasons I want to be a therapist is because I want to be the person that someone goes to to help work through there problems, someone that I’ve always wanted to be and someone that I never had. The few times I have been that person are probably some of the best times of my life so far and I remember them quite well. However, even with all of my family members who love me very much and friends who care, I’ve never found that person. I suppose I want to be that person because I don’t want people to go without one.

All of you who I considered my friends in high school, know that I miss you. It has been way to long since I have seen any of you, and those of you who I see more that others I don’t feel that I see enough of you, even if we go to the same college. But please, all of you, know that I still care about how you are doing and wish to talk to you more often. But I suppose it is no ones fault but my own for this, as I have not tried to contact any of you either. I think this is a product of my semi-low self-esteem, which can be a great burden to have. This low self-esteem comes mostly from the personal image I have of myself. I don’t consider myself a very physically pleasing person, which doesn’t help much it talking to people. I’m not necessarily afraid to talk to people, and when I do I like to think that I am a good conversationalist, but it is always sparking the conversation that I often avoid with great disdain. Which it is why I ask the question, why? Why should I care what the common person cares about me? Shouldn’t I just let go of those worries and live a little? Well, to put it simply, yes. Yes, dammit, yes. Let this be my first lesson to everyone: please stop letting little things like what strangers think of you and LIVE. Please, do it for me, for I am trying my best to do the same.

I always seem to be the most openly expressive and revealing in these writing pieces. I wrote three of them on Facebook and they reveled more about my feelings that almost every conversation I’ve ever had, which I find strange. So, in conclusion, I will post a link to this on Facebook. Please, anyone who reads it comment or something to let me know that you did. But more importantly, if your having a rough time in your life get in contact with me and let me know what is wrong. I would love to talk to you. For those of you who don’t contact me, that’s okay too. This will not be my first post, and in the future if I write something interesting let me know. I welcome all comments and questions, even if it is as basic as “why is your blog named Pyrphoros?”

Sincerely,

Nicholas G. Taranto