Juncture

I'm feeling kind of sad right now (why else would one be up at 5 am? I'm definitely more of a sunrise than a sunset kind of girl, but still...), so I figured I'd post a little. At 3:21 this morning I suffered a moment of panic and wondered if I'm having some kind of nervous breakdown. I have a rash, my knee hurts (all psychosymptomatic, I'm convinced), and the past few weeks have essentially found me feeling extraordinarily high and low at once, oscillating between glee and bitter depression. How dramatic. Mostly I feel young -- horribly young, with all the baggage of being inexperienced in life and clueless about how to interact with others. All my life I've been told how precocious I was, how mature for my age, that I practically had the wisdom of a 40-year-old. So much for that. 

Lately I've sensed that I'm somewhere between 5 and 40, erring towards the formative rather than developed end of the spectrum. I know you'll think I'm absurd for referencing this, but, well, Geminis are supposed to be eternally youthful. The children of the astrological galaxy or whatever. The thing is, I'm beginning to understand the downfalls of being so young and immature, of bringing both innocence and duplicity (because let's face it, children are not entirely guileless) to every point of engagement I have with others. And it hurts my ability to be a good person - a good friend, a good listener, a loyal and discreet human being. 

The more I move away from college and from being in a space that essentially sanctified youth and youthful mannerisms, the more I feel accountable for my decisions and actions, for the way I treat people and the way I seem to wilfully please and hurt them. This post isn't going anywhere. I guess I'm just overwhelmed with feeling that I'm either an emotionally backward twit who can't be honest with other people, or that I'm a brilliant thespian who should consider public performance as a career alternative. 

We have this book coming out at work that discusses the art of immaturity. And boy am I an exemplar. Because mature people aren't as naive or as bound to introduce chaos into their lives. They don't exalt the idea of youth, only to discover that in having done so, they misjudged and abused their real values. A friend told me to draft some wishes for the year ahead. I've been negligent on this head, but I think it's due time to re-evaluate the state of my emotions and intellect (there's currently no synergy between the two!) and to figure out some personal stuff. 

Over the past month I let myself fall into a giddy - but ultimately dissatisfying - morass of superficiality. The thing is, it's sort of heartbreaking to wake up and feel disgusted with yourself, to realize that you let go of substance in constantly seeking novelty and stimulation. I turned 23 this weekend, but I don't think I deserved all the kindness or affection I encountered from so many people. The irony of being in the presence of friends who are so genuine and dear is that it throws into sharp relief your own inadequacies, your own destructive capability. I hope that 23 finds me a more truthful person, more representative of the sincerity I expect in others -- a quality that seems to be so utterly lacking when I jolt awake at 3am and face only myself in this dark room.