Infinite shades of grey.
That’s how the world is. Not sure that even the blackest black is all that, nor the white. Well, maybe there are some absolutes.
I was dorm queen at the Pennsylvania Governor’s School of the Arts at the ripe old age of 26 (was it?). Old enough to be considered a grown up by these fifteen through seventeen year olds. This month long program of artists, musicians, singers, poets and actors was comprised of these kids who had found their tribe. There was no gray. Manic or depressed; ecstatic or devastated. Nuance is not the domain of the young.
Life is great!
I could die.
I guess I used to be that way, but no. I know feelings go up and down and it is all ephemeral. (There is that word again). Like Rochester’s weather, the storm is replaced by sun and turns into rain. Each of these states are real in their turn, but are not negated by whatever replaces them.
At any time, we likely do not live in the extremes as much as it feels like we do.
Put a pin in it. Finish this later…