And again it is so hard not to want many things, not to get overly excited, involved with the emotions when they are so pleasant. It gets scary, too, because I've been there before. When life was so full of events and smiles, expectations of something new, every day, to feel good about yourself, proud really, because you're pretty and fun, smart and sensible, sweet and provocative on balanced measures; you are on top of your small little insignificant vanity world. There was also the hole, the hole within I would call "daily depression". It felt like it was all on the wrong place, all fake and plastic, all in vain, pure waste of time. And it wasn't an ignorant feeling. In fact, it proved to be quite precise.
I tend to value more my years of true hardship and introspection. Not because you must be miserable but because they were solid, those years were telling me something worth hearing.
Now, my vanity once more is blowing and glowing. It scares me like physical pain and I can almost feel the tentacles starting to confine me to it.
.
