A bit of 4 a.m. free writing (rambling about I, I, I) on being inherently emo:
circa 2006? at the hippie hotel, on & in ecstasy, with a roomful of familiar strangers
Even after all those trips to the mountains then to the valleys, up to the sky then down to earth, even after plateauing into a mixed state of sober moderation & abstinence, & by doing so ridding of the extreme lows that so scared me, I still find that the emotion of sadness resonates with me most, & I believe it likely always will. This is not to be confused with something emo & pitiful but rather merely how it is. I feel as if the array of human emotions is comparable to drugs, & different people have their own personal preferences. Drug-wise, sure I did uppers, but I found downers, dissociatives, opiates, & psychedelics were more suited to my own persona. I could never feel comfortable while high on uppers, there was always this vague plaguing thought of paranoia, of disgust, this feeling of dirtiness, & a definite feeling of fakeness. It was never pleasant for me to feel too distant from who I was. I was never a loud, hyper, extroverted type, so to do drugs that promoted that wasn’t exactly fitting. I’d rather kick back, observe, listen. Adverse effects are what I experienced on uppers: instead of feeling like a superhero as others did, I felt small & insecure, awkward to a fault, & dreading the next hit. Everything besides uppers made me feel most at home: carefree, content, in love, in lust, & anticipating the next hit. Emotion-wise, sure I experience happiness & sure I can get pretty fucking angered at times but I find that sadness in particular is something characteristically me. Being happy is just not something I’ve become fully accustomed to feeling yet, though of course I don’t mind it, & being angry is something very fleetingly liberating then immediately tends to evoke feelings of guilt, remorse, & weakness. Books, films, & songs that make me want to cry torrentially or contemplate suicide are books, films, & songs I am drawn to & remember forever, they make me feel alive, that I’m not alone. When I used to get depressed really often, I could write for days & days & days, & every single piece would be of profound importance & an unparallelled skill. It’s not the same being happy & recording all the happy things I did in a day, it all seems so surface-based, & I'm used to digging deeper. I used to believe happiness was an effort to achieve & to be sad was our natural state. Now, looking back, I understand that it was much more difficult dealing with a seemingly helpless depression & being happy is so much easier. Or maybe I’m saying that sadness is easy to attain but hard to deal with, while happiness is hard to attain but easy to deal with.