With change comes the need for control.

And with emotions running through me in an almost uncontainable, effusive manner, that need for control has never been more necessary.

Usually, this comes easily. It feels as if I’ve been training my whole life for such a thing, that I’ve spent most of my time working towards becoming a cerebral person. Except that in the past, it’s was to edulcorate the pain.

Now, it’s to control the happiness. The almost ineffable feeling of euphoria.

Sometimes, I can barely contain the surge of emotion, and I have to stop myself from acting out, to keep my mind in check. I refuse to be one who acts out of emotion. I refuse to be one who’s at the whim of whatever mood I’m in.

I will be stronger than that which has become so important to me. I will be in control of that which I’ve sought so long to have.

Because balance is more important than happiness.

Emotional. Oh so emotional. Maybe it was the pint, maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was the presence of others, maybe it was the second-hand compliment, maybe it was the raw night sky, maybe it was the Moon Mix pumping in my ears.

I just know that I’m happy.

And loving every minute of it.

How odd that the themes of my writings have mostly shifted in one direction. I always wonder what people think of what I say. I would imagine that people think I’m being melodramatic, that I’m looking for some sort of protagonistic pathos, or that I’m being some pretentious fuck.

It’s as if a single incident has shifted my mindset, that I just can’t seem to completely get over what has passed. The hurting has stopped, to be sure, but the thinking isn’t done. I still get inspired by memories, ideas, emotions, almost anything I’ve experienced through this.

I was once scared that I would never fall in love again, and I used to be emotionally numb. Perhaps all of this was simply a result of a life of stagnancy, of boredom. Now I can write again, I have things to think about, I have emotions to experience, I seem to have things to look forward to.

Can heartbreak be so beneficial? I know that I can feel. I don’t need to force my artistic writing. My mind seems to be filled with new endless thoughts. I can even appreciate certain music on another level now. This complexity, this mysteriousness is so interesting.

My only worry is that this new vitality will level off into nothingness.

Ever since I got my iPod, I’ve been a playlist listener, as opposed to an album listener like Nick. I had 10 main playlists, and each one would be for a different genre or mood, although I listened to my mood ones much more often, such as my bittersweet mix or angry mix. Now I’m find my moderate number of playlists to be insufficient. Often, when I step out into the intemperate sky which has been so dominant lately, I won’t be able to find an appropriate playlist. Nothing matches my moods now.

I think that my moods and emotions have become more subtle and diverse in the last year. It’s been harder to put my finger on how I’m feeling, because nothing is as base as a simple “sad” or “angry” anymore. I find that the flavours of my feelings have become more intricate and connected, not only because of simultaneous highs and lows, but also because of a greater application of dual-sidedness.

Sometimes it feels as if my emotions have evened out, that there is less range to the ups and downs. I’ve learned a great deal from the interesting set of situations I’ve been placed in over the last two years. This, combined with my zealousness for self-improvement, has allowed me to become a little stronger and a little wiser. Perhaps, in time, everything will even out. I’m just not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

Because I’d probably cease to learn.

I have to get this down before I lose it.

The new Starsailor album is out this month, and I’m not sure if I’ll buy it. There’s something about the general sound of Starsailor songs that evoke an almost ineffable emotion in me. I never even knew they existed until last month, but for some reason, their 2001 Love Is Here album cover is oddly familiar. Every time I see the sun-washed tracks falling into the horizon, I get an odd sense of déjá vu.

As one who rarely has such an ephemeral, mystical experience, this strikes me as a extremely poignant thing. I feel as if I know this album, that I’ve seen it before, even had emotions associated with it. It’s something I can’t explain, and whether the emotions are good are bad, I can’t recall.

Their music moves me nonetheless. The chord progressions are unpredictable yet dulcet, bitter yet sweet. I can’t decide if it’s sunset or sunrise music, and the album cover serves to emphasize this equivocality. I can’t even tell if the music makes me happy or sad.

And so remains my problem. Do I want to listen to this music or not? I always find it odd that someone would not want to think about or experience something simply because it makes them sad. Doing so seems to be so cowardly, as if one is running from one’s self.

Yet the problem remains, with other music as well, and as clear as this logic is for me I find it difficult to queue up certain songs. Listening to The Postal Service brings back so many amazing, unforgettable memories, but so many painful thoughts as well.

I choose not to ignore either, and end up being emotionally torn, unclear in my heart and in my mind.