People should only eat when hungry, sleep when tired. Such a thing never occurs to anyone in “modern society.” We are all just lazy gluttons, or–worse still–overworked anorexics, with one foot in the grave either way.
I belong to a third, grayer category, those poor unfortunate souls who for days at a time gorge themselves on all manner of rotten indulgences, then almost as suddenly spend an equally harrying number of days enjoying absolutely nothing; who may start the week hell bent on accomplishing nada, lounging about leisurely soaking up sleep as if it were a precious but scarce commodity that must be used immediately, lest it be stolen from them, yet end the week chasing success and money and love so fervently, enjoying immensely the rat race called life in the fast lane, that sleep is neglected, ignored like the forgotten toys of childhood.
Bipolar, some of us have been called. Manic/Depressive, they say. Burning our candles at both ends, but at least we’ll have a little fun before we die.
I may feel all emotions too intensely. I may love a little too quickly–a little too strongly. I may cry too much, too loud, too hard. Perhaps my hate, anger, fear, lust, joy, and any number of other human emotions are just too intense, but am I wrong to like it that way?
What good is there in feeling anything at all if you cannot feel it to the heights for which it was meant? Why do anything at all without riding the adrenaline roller coaster to the ground? Some say if you’re going to do it, overdo it, and I say, why not?
Sheryl Crow–If it makes you happy, then it can’t be that bad, and if it makes you happy, then why the hell are you so sad?