ecovlke's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 5: Time Travel Made Painful Chapter 5: Time Travel Made Painful During my school years I was thought of as a strange child by my teachers. My dreams becoming even more emotionally intense. They played more like movies in my head. My less than sterling experiences with my peers had caused me to withdraw more into myself. Constantly craving understanding and acceptance while running for my safe place in the back of my head. My mother spent a lot of time after school talking with my teachers. Pleading my case to keep me out of special education. Not that I had trouble learning, but to help me pull out of my shell. During recess I would stand out in the school yard and shoegaze. I was totally lost in thought. I would imagine that I was an old man and so could not play with the children around me. The other children would throw balls and rocks at me to try and break my invisible wall, but it was my heart that was made of glass not my defenses. One day in school I was writing, and looking down at my hand and the pencil that it held, when I was struck with a strange epiphany. I put my pencil down and looked at my hands. I was suddenly aware that I was a living person. That I had life, that I existed, and that I was interacting with the cosmos, with creation. This feeling first hit me in the second grade. It would come and go throughout elementary school. I learned that I could bring about this feeling and the accompaning tingling sensation when I thought about it deep enough. I lost this ability to amaze myself around the sixth grade. It was replaced by a hightened sense of emotions brought on by the seasons. I would battle epic bouts of depression. The wind, a sunset, rain, a chilly breeze, the way the sun peeks through the clouds after a thunderstorm all could trigger a sense of happiness and amazement that would decend into a most dreadful feeling. Sometimes I wanted to scream, cry, run, or depending on how hard it hit me, just sit back and enjoy it. The pain that I had been feeling like a heart punch from god was passion. These feelings began to take over. It fueled my desire to create art. I soon learned that I could not love unless it hurt me. So now we begin the high school years. 9:50 a.m. - 2001-09-09 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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