That kind - the soul searching stuff....a very late re draft, with a more personal touch

In writing a text, I was asked to recall a moment in time of my life and criticise it. I guess that moment was meant to be one that inspired me and made me change my mental attitude towards what I thought before, thus the importance in writing and applying a critical text. I pondered many moments to write about as many have been life changing, although being too cliché, I picked the least and wrote about a Peruvian experience I had with a local boy on top of a mountain. Notice a hint of sarcasm? I was dishonest  in thinking to myself that this would fit the brief, so now I shall re write it using a psychoanalytic approach to what moments I feel now and how they have rather drastically changed from my former self to the current person I inhabit.​

I recall moments of complete joy and solitude in the past, where I fell in love or when I hugged a new born puppy. Also when I was close to my mother and we spent days and days together idealising our perfect selves after she left my father. I recall excitement and desire whilst pondering men and suspense in waiting for communication from a many fancied men. The many relationships I had with others, where never ending trust and appreciation was had which was unquestioned. I recall the first time I discovered sex and on a negative note, in such a way that I was disgusted by my body and my decision making that I refused men for two years. In sadness I then recall the tears rolling down my sisters helpless face after cutting herself so much that there was no more space on her arms to cut. I recall the beer and spit all over me in the street with laughing faces mocking me and waiting till next time, I recall the pain in a broken heart with no hope at all in how to mend it and I recall the many, many decisions that sliced my brain in half making it insufficient to use anymore. 

There is a theory that the brain changes the most chemically from the ages of 18 to 21, which in a sense is why we begin the transition of childhood into adulthood at this particular age. All the emotions, decisions, attitudes and particular characteristics of one person cement themselves into the brain and help us define ourselves more than ever before, ready for the future. In mind of this theory, I have used it to shed light on a transfer of one mind to another; mine. In the past, I never recalled much aggression and anger to the point it became physical and manifested itself. I always use to have a relief button which slipped up from the surface in need of a break from overwhelming emotions and was there to press. I always had an escape or an empathetic ear who wouldn't worry too much about me. I never needed drugs to stop my brain from working in one way, because I always had the sense in which to rationalise any mental issue. I felt joy often, sadness, jealousy, empowerment, success, fear, pain and pleasure.

Though now I can't quite place a label on any emotion I feel as these are so new and difficult to define. The ups, the lows. The unbearable light that wakes me up in the morning, in tescos, in the cheeriness behind smiled eyes and the complete innocence behind the pointing finger of blame. The beautiful flowers that bloom out of gardens hardly kept, the moment of engagement of a particular text, the freedom behind choice. I find these moments winding themselves around my mind, gaping in and out of each other careful not to let each other know they exist. In between all there is, is just a dark space, a circus laying dormant just for the mental structure – waiting to explode and perform when needed.

In short and to conclude, the moment in which I wish to analyse and apply a critical approach is the moment I lost in time, and I am not sure exactly when, when I lost control in knowing the reality behind any moment. A circus has always been at the back of my mind, waiting to perform at will, whereas now the circus is used only for stability of mind, for routine. The extravaganzas, the popcorn and smiling faces, the applaude so loud it shook the tent, the many many colours all cease to exist now and are lost in the past, having dissapated into a dream which is waiting desperately to be dreamt again.