![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
A memoir of my miniature madness
Wednesday, February 8th, 2006 05:41 pmI have this friend that I can be quite catty about, even to his face sometimes, but will defend against if anyone else disses him when I'm around. His moral code does not align with mine, but I'm usually ok with that and on occasion I will even break my own moral code slighty for him.
Lately I have become more fully aware that he has been and is still experiencing quite a hard time internally with himself. My immediate reaction is that I have gone through similar myself and have managed to resolve it somehow. I don't know if it is a way of life or a phase for him, and I am surprised that I haven't automatically categorised in this respect. I appear to be happy to let him be what he is, which is completely odd and bizarre for me since I always have an urge to meddle or impose my moral code usually.
The thing is that while I am happy and content that he should share himself with me in this way, it does stir up my memories of when I was going through my phase of the same. A ghost of melancholy comes over me, an urge to write and draw, a walk down memory lane to look at the wilting roses and their bitter thorns. The cutting, the psychotic breaks, the inability to get other people to understand what was happening within. It doesn't drag me down, I have on many levels laid my demons to rest and they are no longer there to haunt. The memories are more... a bittersweet reflection. Strange that metal music seems to be one of the triggers for this, as it was the music that was all around me for those years. I tend to avoid metal now, mostly to avoid the stirrings. I am sometimes oh so slightly regretful that I do not get the urge to draw, write, paint, or even create music in the way I used to, yet I look at how I am inside when this is triggered and I am content with how I am today. It is not the act of artistic expression that is the trigger of the ghost of my past, rather it is the ghost of my past that is the trigger of my artistic expression.
A war within oneself is not a pretty thing to endure. There was another aspect to the war as well, the part that told me that this was real, happening, I would never escape and the part that told me to stop pretending, there was nothing wrong with me, I could stop if I wasn't such an attention whore. Those two parts warring was perhaps the hardest thing to withstand out of everything.
Now of course, I all at once embrace who I used to be at this time and also somehow see myself as completely apart from it. Not denial, more acceptance but acknowledging that it is no longer a part of who I am.
Lately I have become more fully aware that he has been and is still experiencing quite a hard time internally with himself. My immediate reaction is that I have gone through similar myself and have managed to resolve it somehow. I don't know if it is a way of life or a phase for him, and I am surprised that I haven't automatically categorised in this respect. I appear to be happy to let him be what he is, which is completely odd and bizarre for me since I always have an urge to meddle or impose my moral code usually.
The thing is that while I am happy and content that he should share himself with me in this way, it does stir up my memories of when I was going through my phase of the same. A ghost of melancholy comes over me, an urge to write and draw, a walk down memory lane to look at the wilting roses and their bitter thorns. The cutting, the psychotic breaks, the inability to get other people to understand what was happening within. It doesn't drag me down, I have on many levels laid my demons to rest and they are no longer there to haunt. The memories are more... a bittersweet reflection. Strange that metal music seems to be one of the triggers for this, as it was the music that was all around me for those years. I tend to avoid metal now, mostly to avoid the stirrings. I am sometimes oh so slightly regretful that I do not get the urge to draw, write, paint, or even create music in the way I used to, yet I look at how I am inside when this is triggered and I am content with how I am today. It is not the act of artistic expression that is the trigger of the ghost of my past, rather it is the ghost of my past that is the trigger of my artistic expression.
A war within oneself is not a pretty thing to endure. There was another aspect to the war as well, the part that told me that this was real, happening, I would never escape and the part that told me to stop pretending, there was nothing wrong with me, I could stop if I wasn't such an attention whore. Those two parts warring was perhaps the hardest thing to withstand out of everything.
Now of course, I all at once embrace who I used to be at this time and also somehow see myself as completely apart from it. Not denial, more acceptance but acknowledging that it is no longer a part of who I am.
