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Helena is continuously attempting to place herself. She has a patchy memory and often finds herself in the endeavor to comprehend the inner workings of her convoluted mind and the world at large, inept. The only honest things she believes are mere conceptualizations, concocted to have meaning to the human mind, that resonate in the volumes of literature that she is continuously absorbing. And in fact these concepts she has not truly thought of herself, rather the words on the pages that were translated into writing by a brilliant author during a moment of insight, Helena just happens to agree with and not necessarily relate to.

Often, however, Helena experiences unshackling moments of pure understanding that she struggles to retain because of the irrefutably present, but still elusive and bewildering significance that these memories hold for her. She is sitting up in bed. Her fingers are interlaced with those of her drowsy boyfriend and her dog is at her feet, dreaming idiosyncratically, pawing and murmuring in her sleep. Helena effortlessly attributes last night's cathartic consequences to her current felicity and wellness of being.

She recalls the scene. She is sitting on a bench with trees and shrubbery scattered ellipticallly about and around her. The sky is cornflower blue and the grey strati clouds appear nebulous. The streetlights illuminate the sky- a seemingly infinite canvas, splattered with indistinct stars in an array of secular metropolitan formations. The hills directly situated behind her are undetectable if not for the porch lights of the neighborhoods so far away that furnish its contour. The weight of this display ought to make Helena feel minor and existential, but instead Adam calls Helena as he simultaneously fastens Pluto's leash to her dog collar and Helena feels content, like she is rightly where she belongs in the world.

Helena is overly analytical. As someone with no set of values or guiding principles of her own, she settles for observation and analysis. An education and eventual career in comparative literature rather suits her for this reason. As a result, Helena finds herself to be less and less opinionated. Sadly she no longer steers with her primal inclinations and instead proceeds with the use of logic, which she has begrudgingly come to rely on.

She doesn't know if she exactly remembers him in high school. A vague and undoubtedly fleeting moment some time ago nearly convinces Helena every now and again. Upon hearing his name for the first time in college, a likely association was made that could very well prove that she in fact was once aware of Adam's actuality prior to this cursory juncture, but somehow Helena hasn't been able since to conjure any amount of assuredness back. She is okay with this.

Throughout her life Helena has been periodically accused of having an inordinate amount of potential for someone so unmotivated and so clearly ungrateful. She doesn't think of herself as particularly promising, nor does she feel life has provided her with any compensating measure of incentive to justify her use of this alleged talent. And even if it is true that Helena indeed possesses aptitude, exactly what, she'd prefer to know is this aptitude for? Is it for achieving outstanding marks? Is it for her ability to appear more well-rounded in front of company she has the smallest desire to impress? To that she would like to add that well-spokeness is absolutely not any indicator of a person's aptitude. As well, acquiring decent grades proves nothing in Helena's opinion and merely gives many the false conviction that they are in some way superior to those who for any number of reasons receive poor marks. Helena reminds herself that she is most likely not qualified to make this sort of assertion and moves on.

On a side note, Helena suspects that the unreasonable amount of praise she receives from others could be attributed to her good looks- her symmetrical face, bright green eyes and healthy figure. From her experience it seems evident to Helena that people often associate competence with attractiveness, in that the majority of people are more willing to listen to someone and care what they have to say if the person in question happens to have been endowed with favorable genes. Alternately, she supposes, being pleasing to the eye warrants envy in many cases and perhaps even resentment. In any case, it might be helpful to explain that Helena not only has a patchy memory, but also a patchy train of thought, resulting in unforgivably excruciating and oftentimes irrelevant digressions.

All in all, Helena often wishes she had never pursued an education. She has an incalculable amount of appreciation for those who come to terms with themselves and hypothesize on the human condition, the way things are, etc. etc. without the overbearing influence of schools, organized religion, the government, or what have you. One builds up a tolerance to obtaining useless information. Like somehow learning is a drug and the junkie, the more they learn, feels closer to truth, to enlightenment almost, but never exactly reaches that ultimate goal. The idea of reaching that goal, that nirvana, is so appealing and yet so undeniably unattainable. There is always more to know. It is a never-ending cycle. But gratification, that's what makes the routine and ordinary acts that we, as human beings, participate in, not so utterly useless. Helena finds literature to be a source of pleasure and satisfaction, thus her curiosity and wonder for the arts are justifiable. Otherwise her hedonistic outlook is solely frivolous and vain. Either way, Helena is content.