Show a part of your nature that you feel you've lost. Can you get it back? Would it be worth it?
A part of my nature that I've lost is my morose, depressed, dare I say gothic, side to my personality. I think it's a good thing to have lost that. Maybe I haven't totally lost it, because my poetry can be a little angst-ridden still. I tend to write about things that upset me at one time, or I write for therapy maybe. It's in writing that I've lost the sense that everything is so life changing.
To be honest, I am probably much more cynical than I try to portray myself as being. I like to be a positive person, or maybe appear as a positive person? I don't know if that's deceptive, but maybe I feel that if I fake it long enough I will be like that. I'm not trying to say that I don't see the best in things, because I think I tend towards that. I'm just saying that sometimes, I feel like complaining more than I do. It's exhausting being positive sometimes, and there are days I just want to admit that life sucks, 'cause it can sometimes.
I'm certainly lucky to have lead a charmed life, but there are days when I just want to move to Mars (or another side of the planet at least). I want to say goodbye to everyone I know, sell everything I own, and start a new life free from the encumbrances of material and emotional baggage that I've created in a lifetime of accumulating. I want to stop collecting and polishing my possessions; I want to not do my homework; I want to slack off a little, disconnect, unplug; eliminate distractions; burn bridges; cut ties; basically, I want to start over.
Sometimes I feel like that anyway. What if I'm doing it wrong? I certainly haven't been doing it all right. There are things I get right, but I can't say that I haven't been on the mark a bit. I've been on the mark some. I like being happy, though; it works for me. It looks good on me, dare I say. So really, at the end of the day, that's what I want: to be happy. There is still a small part of me that likes to just stew in the emotion of melancholy. It feels comfortable. But in another larger sense, that's not me anymore. It's a skin I slip into, but not one that I wear all the time. It's worth it for art's sake, but as far as life goes, I'd rather be blissfully peaceful.
This post is part of The Scintilla Project.
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