Day one

It came to me today that being emotionally involved with things is the only way I can live life to its full splendor. It might be considered extreme: to need to feel things intensely, to be emotionally attached to things so much that the thought of them ending causes a great sense of loss and sadness. But sadness is good, sometimes, it means that things mattered – whether it is sadness caused by losing a lover, a job, a burnt idea, a friend… I feel like people are expected to bounce back from things, sometimes a bit too quickly; that nowadays, the idea of feeling deep sadness and a deep connection to something or someone is an outdated idea, a product of old romantic novels… Us, citizens of the 21st century, ought to know that love and strong emotions belong to old ancient Greek plays.

I have been sad lately. Not sad in an extreme way like I used in the past – just an annoying sadness that accompanies me throughout the days – things are neither colourful nor dark – they are bleak and moderate. I am getting used to normality, to trying to be healthy, to be moderate about things by distancing myself of people and matters due to the, perhaps, fear of loss. In the past I feel like I was more engaged and I gave it all: the moments of happiness were bright and blinding but the moments of sadness were destructive and terrible. Despite that, I think that was the only way I have learnt how to feel alive. Furthermore, I rather experience extreme disappointment and sadness over having been in love with something than general apathy and blasé towards these same things. Whenever I finished a project, I would feel terrible, like a piece of me had been stripped away, that perhaps some of my identity had been taken – but I also believe this level of attachment translated into good work and good ideas. But now, I feel uninspired… like as if anything would do. Sometimes, I fear I might have fallen out of love with all things.

The point is, summarizing in a very cliché way, however the fall might be, having reached such heights might lead to a much more interesting life than staying close to the ground and minimizing the risk of injury, which is probably what any therapist would not say, given my historial. However, at the same time, I am the person who sleeps 4 hours a day, has a stupid memory for random facts and draws amazingly violent pictures – so perhaps, the general recipe of the “average good life” doesn’t suit me – just like making clean jokes doesn’t. Your mom.

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