Sometimes I do miss teenage angst. My hormone-controlled years were filled with so many outpourings of creativity – my mind has never been more active. All those tears, all the questioning and the bucket-loads of emotions; only to be washed anew with cold, harsh and mundane reality the next morning.
Here’s a little snippet of what angst produced in those years: a snippet of ‘and finally’ (2008).
“I think I know what it is now. We have come so far skewing that we eventually hit a rock, this outcome is alarming, it’s awakening and illusive. I can paint a million words but it would be a definite waste of time.
This, I think, shall be the final chapter of you, of my tired and inflatable heart. I have wanted from the beginning to figure you out, thinking and admiring you beyond all human measures. My expectations and misinterpretations made you another little miss idealisation, another underserving royalty, and another handsome prince that just happened to have boarded the boat and sailed to me.
You were so perfect and willing in my unconscious psych, I pushed and you pulled. You were a tiny firetruck that cascaded with the residents of my heart, and burnt it down dearly. Every move and every word I branched out into the unknown was collected when ripe. I brewed it all with my perfected recipe for great wine – the mesmerising taste and bittersweet sound; my head so willingly participative and collective, the idiot neurons transmitting you, only you.”