This is my teenage angst expressed as a full-grown woman. In a journal entry I wrote on a plane in my late twenties, probably around 2006, it appears I was reconnecting with a previous lover but directly correlating the power of these current feelings with unrequited experiences with a different person from a decade before.
This picture fully captures my adult/teenage angst/tension/control/longing.
I am warning myself of hazardous feelings, at the same time deliberately working myself up into them. I am feeling and then telling myself to not feel. I am working out the tension between physical and emotional craving and capacity. I am a teenage woman! I have always been a late bloomer in so many emotional ways and I am embarrassingly and exhilaratingly reminded when I stumble on ramblings such as this gem.
"Something close to a decade of time between us, but when I saw you when I was held by you, it all came back to me like the memory of something so familiar. Something I knew so well once, something my mind stored away in its most private parts saving for a time when the treasure would be seen again, felt again. And when I can see your eyes so close to mine because our lips are pressed together, I do what so many authors have tried to describe without being so trite as to say "I melt". But I melt into them, into your gaze, goddamnit, I melt into you. And it's not like I'm in the mood to melt. I'm not prepared to be out-of-control. I'm not looking to be swept away. For the love of Jesus, there is something in your eyes. Your eyes host so many shades of brown, so many layers of emotions, some of which strike a chord from years ago when these feelings pumped in the blood of a young girl with so many troubles to face. Now, as my eyes widen to get an entire look into what I hope is the exposition of your soul, I feel exonerated. And then, suddenly, my thick skin tells me to shut the fuck up - and stop. Stop caring more than you can control, stop caring more than you can accommodate right now. Stop wanting to want and to have him more and more. Now. Now. Stop wanting to touch him, stop wanting to be touched by him. Stop wanting to just make him go crazy, to witness him let loose, to be a part of him and let him be a part of you. No, stop. Remember that you don't like the intimacy of the heart. Of the body is fine, of the body is good - but what the hell? Reign in your heart, please. Let it feel good, but establish a breaking point - where it stops from ever going beyond what you can control. It's happened once before - do. you remember? His name was ----."