“Why did she make things? Well, she enjoyed it, of course, but it also somehow helped her remember who she was and where she came from.”
It’s been coming back stronger each day again. It’s been months since I tingled with the crave, the spark, the challenge and the urge to drop everything to create. It’s to me, forming something from nothing but an idea — a product of the mind — with each result coming from conscious decisions and one’s own actions. The more basic the materials, the more engaging it is to me — think, ink and graphite and paper, think, combining scraps into objects. It’s putting my energies and a particular kind of emotion into the process of creation. The visible product can be applauded for its aesthetics but its what it initiates that grants it value. The tunnel of memories it leads one through and the ideas it kindles.
I step outside and feel lost in the centre of high concrete walls that block out chunks of sky. Realization strikes that I want immersion. I thrive on passion. It is a fiery desire to learn and experience. Intensity is daunting, yet I’ve always and can only thrive on passion. It’s not cold concrete or isolating woods I crave. Both are romantic images but neither location ever sit right with me when thought in permanence. I want to be wherever I can immerse myself in passion and have it engulf me. Even as school — university, high school — can be monotonous and dreary, there’s always been something that keeps me wanting. It’s a crave to learn — learn, not study — and therefore, an autonomous want, not an external push. School is an environment that draws people and stimulates their minds, albeit some not as well as others. Their laughter, their insights bring me somewhere because an environment like this draws people in and brings them out. I travel through them just as I always travelled through strangers’ lives in the train and bus rides.
I’ve weened off and am completely off medication. My mind has been rapidly clearing. My thoughts are coming back. My focus. I haven’t felt this way since I was put on any medication at all. It’s been months and I’m finding my core again. Stability. Desire. Movement. I thought I lost it, that I changed, or even that it might not have been the real me. I feel the wanderlust and with it, I’m remembering the wandering wonder and the many mediums.