Knowing Everything about Nothing

I had always seen myself as a logical, pragmatic person. The way I viewed the world, there wasn’t really any sort of problem, situation etc. that couldn’t be solved. Almost anything and everything has a mode of operating; any problem that arose from that thing or situation was due to a lack of understanding of how that something worked, or lack of resources that would be essential in having it work properly.
I know, I know. A lot of people will disagree with me on this. Many will ask about miraculous occurrences-- How did that woman wake up from that coma she fell into 17 years ago? Area 51? God?
I still thought my philosophy applied to a point, but preferred to not get into the metaphysical-- it put a damper in what I thought was a very sound (and comfortable) moral theory. All I told myself was that there was always some reasoning, some method of operating that was behind someone or something. If I encountered a problem that I didn't understand, it would just take enough research and comprehension to solve it; whether this research took 10 seconds or 100 years there would still be an end goal, right? This reasoning was the premise of anything and everything I did in my life.
I think this is why I developed a love for academics. When other girls who I went to school with were concerned about who they were dating or which juicy couture tracksuit would match their ugg boots, I was studying; always trying to find out how and why things worked the way they did. I mean, I wouldn’t say I was completely unaware of my appearance. I enjoyed wearing makeup, doing my hair and wearing decent clothing, just as those other girls did. The only difference was that I wanted (well more like neurotically craved) an understanding of how each of those things worked. I would watch hundreds of videos on makeup tutorials, noting brush stroke techniques, full coverage vs. light coverage foundation and its effect on my skin. I would look up the chemicals contained in hair products and research how they interacted with the bonds in my hair. I would look up the chemical composition of cotton and research why it fell the way it did on my body shape.
My obsession of knowledge also leaked into athletics. I played for my high school soccer team. Every supplement I used after practice would be researched before I even thought of putting it into my body; I was always looking at which product would have optimal effects on my body’s biochemicals. Any ache or pain that I had would be pinpointed anatomically and researched.
I know what you’re thinking: I was an obsessive compulsive freak who spent way too much time overthinking things. And you’re 100% right.
If you haven’t noticed my use of the past tense throughout this introduction of my whole life story, I will now bring it to your attention.
You see, I was perfectly content with my way of life. It didn’t bother me that I wasn’t like my peers or even the mass of shit they would say about me behind my back because of it. All I cared about was my knowledge and understanding of the world around me, and If anyone in my life didn’t like it they could take a hike.
This was until I came to the revelation that I was actually living a life full of ignorance when it seemed like I had the answer to everything. And worst of all, this realization was started by one person who decided to show up in my anatomy class one morning in December.

I long for the days when my only concern was homework.