A meteor shower I wasn’t even aware was happening

There’s a rumor going around that writers tend to be crazy.  Let me tell you, I believed that I was for so many years.  Or, maybe it’s not that I don’t believe that anymore, maybe it’s that, nowadays, I realize that I am done apologizing for who I am.

I am incapable of doing anything halfway.  I am incapable of hiding my emotions, because they just burst out of me.  When I’m happy, I want to laugh and cry and throw my hands up toward the sky.  When I’m sad, I want to walk out into the nighttime and stare at the darkness as if it’ll give me some answers.

I’m done apologizing for that.  Once, I went out onto my roof in the middle of a crisp, clear, pitch-black autumn night, and somehow stumbled upon a meteor shower I wasn’t even aware was happening that night.

There are things people trade in to be “happy” and stable that I would never trade for my own experience of the world.  I don’t want all the answers, I don’t want to settle for flat lining emotions.  Of course, that’s easy for me to say from this vantage point, when everything seems (more or less) calm.  But, it’s something I like to remind myself.  It’s what the existentialists call “authenticity…” now that is what I’m after, damn it.

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