Well, I'm happy to report that my flute is once again back in my possession. After several days and a series of unfortunate as well as extremely lucky circumstances, this morning a middle aged man from Plainfield named Dave was on my doorstep, flute in hand. My dad offered to give him money, for being such a good guy I suppose, but he declined and rather hastily left. But, it's good to know that such a caliber of people still exist in the world, and I'm extremely grateful.
And now, after my entry of neuro-analysis on the teenage brain, I'm really starting to wish I was a small child again. Or an adult. Anything except this age group. I don't like being moody, I don't like overthinking, I don't like being emotional, and I don't like being dramatic. Melodrama is actually very close to number one on the list of qualities I truly despise. None of it would be a problem if I was just a little bit older and could deal with situations in a more mentally healthy fashion. Or a bit younger. To become a small child again and simply throw a temper tantrum at the slightest displeasure, which is not necessarily healthy, but at that age group, is considered appropriate. But because I'm a teenager, it seems I'm doomed to all the things I thought I could avoid. I know I'm happy, but because I'm a teenager I'm trying to convince myself that I'm not. And of course I'll deal with it the healthy way: internalizing. I think if I were anyone else I'd find me exasperating.
No comments:
Post a Comment