I have two moods which have followed each other for as far back as I can remember that sort of thing. The one is manipulative, mistrustful, clever, vain, fearful, secretive, and good at it. The other is normal. Not that there’s any such thing as normal but just that everyone seems to have some sort of stable region of moodiness and the second is mine. I’ve never been able to decide fully between the two. The first one sounds mean, but I know there’s both good and bad in each of them. The adjectives I used mean more here than they do with their usual definitions, but I don’t know how to describe them now.
There are different types of people and each type has their own way of dealing with things. There’re qualities in the types shared between them, but I think there’s one particular quality that stands out for each way. I’ve never been the sort of person who deals with stuff by going and talking to other people. Of course I do to some extent, but rarely. I just go off and think it out or work it out. And the way I think it out, often enough, is by talking to the characters in my head. This probably sounds odd to some of you, but I think some of you can relate.
I’m not good at talking about my feelings and thoughts. For two reasons: One mood tells me to not say anything, to keep it to myself; and the other tells me to speak up. I think it’s good - part of being human - to talk about thoughts and feelings with other people, but there are some things that are private, personal. And perhaps that number of ‘private’ things is greater for some types of people and lesser for others. But the first reason that I’m not good at talking about my thoughts and feelings is that I’m not used to it, and I’ve little or no sense of proportion. Which things are ‘right and good’ to share and which things do I want to keep private? I have a sort of fear of people using the things I tell them about myself against me, which quickly leads into that first mood and causes me to think I should keep the whole thing quiet and secretive. But fear is a bad help in thinking. The other reason is that I’m not used to it, and there was a long time - the remnants of which still hang around my speech - when, not sure whether or not to say what I thought or felt, I’d say it in such a complected and indiscernible manner that it could be taken either way and no one would ever be able to find the meaning of it. So it’s a struggle to speak honestly now, even though I want to. I really want to. Enough to try hard. I love honesty, I’ve realized that lately, it’s so simple and clear - the same sort of beauty math has.
There’s good and bad in both moods and I want to find the good and apply that.
Does anyone else’s brain ever feel like a speedway where the cars are all going too fast and there’re too many of them and it's so very hard to slow any of them down or stop them? I think there’s a time for everyone when the questions come. One suddenly becomes aware of all the things they’d been assuming, wonders at the surety they had not so long ago. There’s the whole set of feels: the longing, the wanderlust, the discontent, the excitement, the fear, the sudden wonder of it all. And there’re the questions. What’s the point of anything? How do I know? What do I believe, and why? And then, What the heck am I here for?
Being a teenager is not the easiest or most fun thing under the sun. It’s a pain. But a good pain, or at least, it’s there for a good cause. And it’s worth it.
Sometimes I wish I had more time. I wish that a lot, actually. There are so many things I want to learn, so many things I want to do. And it all goes so fast. We don’t get a whole lot of time, but I guess the point is that we get enough. That makes me think of Gandalf. Do you remember that scene in The Fellowship of the Ring (movie) when Frodo is standing on the shores of Nen Hithoel facing the choice he knows he must make: to go into Mordor alone to destroy the ring, the heaviest burden in Middle Earth? And you hear the voice-over of Gandalf, saying, "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us." And you see it in Frodo's eyes that he’s decided; and he jumps into the Elvin boat and sets out.
I worry too much. I over-think. But neither is necessary. I wonder overmuch 'if it’s worth it,' 'what if it fails,' 'what’s the point'; but none of those worries help, the point is to decide what to do with the time that’s been given me.
That first mood puts me somewhere dark, that second is too neutral. Neither is the spirit I want to live with. There’s another mood - though really, perhaps ‘mood’ was never the right word - that flashes by now and then: the clever, joyful one, that has more to it than meets the eye, because it’s not my mood, it’s just my spilling-over of something much greater. It’s in those little flashes that I begin to “misunderstand less,” as Lewis said. xx