I believe in Post Secret.
I believe in wishing necklaces.
I believe everything I hear on TV.
I believe in “Kids with Cameras.”
I believe that this generation will change the world.
I believe in clichés.
I believe in the Ronald McDonald House in Baltimore.
I believe John Locke knew what he was talking about.
I believe in a pluralist God.
I believe that I have greatness within me.
I believe in fate.
I believe in all things unsung and obscure.
I believe that coincidences do not exist.
I believe in mathematics.
I believe in Chilean Sea Bass.
I believe in Chuck Klosterman.
I believe that lists can be prose.
I believe in pen pals.
I believe in Southern hospitality.

This is what I believe in.  It was almost impossible to figure this out.  I thought that the world was getting smaller, that because it is the age of information more ideas and perspectives were available to a layperson.  However, (to me at least) the world seems frighteningly vast.  There are too many ideas, too many opinions—there is too much for me to understand.  There is everything to get behind.  Dickens would say there is nothing to get behind.  Sometimes, when I’m alone and it’s not too cold outside and I can walk places, the world is my friend.  I can see the trees.  I want to keep the moment, but I know that reason it is so complete is knowing it will soon be a mere memory, and that its rarity is its magnetism.  That is when I believe in the world, and I feel a passionate energy for good.  I want to change the world, and I know I can.  It’s like in The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky (one of the best books in recent years): a pristine moment is all that is necessary to feel infinite.  Then there are times when it is late or bright and everything is overwhelming and all the choices are suffocating, and the endless world is not kind.  I no longer feel a part of something when those terrible moments arrive; I feel that I am not enough—the world is too broken, too backwards.  
Beliefs are the fibrous, knotty, twisted, permanent little folds on the inside of your palms.  Beliefs are golden charms delicately lifted from a velvet box and clasped around your neck.  Beliefs are that pull just behind your solar plexus when you know something is inherently right.  Beliefs are more about questions than answers.
There are things that I believe in that I do not even understand myself.  With them, I go more on blind faith, and a feeling rather than tangible thoughts.  I can do this only because I have found a way to do so.  I believe.