A lot of the time when I’m writing (because I’m usually writing on my own accord), I’m ecstatic and excited but there are sometimes where I get so excited about a project I’m working on that I’m almost overwhelmed. It’s an intense feeling that brings me close to what I imagine ecstasy feels like. Even doing the heavy research seems to fill me with vitality, motivation and a happiness that trumps me reading my favourite novels/manga or getting something I’ve always wanted. It feels like an emotion that’s been there since I was born, almost something older than me that I can’t completely handle. But I can’t put it properly into words, or if I do, I can’t seem to convey it to others and so it always falls short even though I’m dying to share it. But I imagine that that’s how it must be. This feeling is mine and mine alone. Other people will have theirs and they can’t share mine. Maybe there are people out there that share it but those around me don’t and sometimes it gets a little lonely to get so hyped up about something that I can even feel the glittering in my eyes but the people I talk to about it are looking for a way out of the conversation. It kind of makes me think this ‘feeling’ is like a little like I’m showing someone this little pet that I think is the most interesting and adorable thing in the world. I’m holding it up with both hands and beaming like a small child as I show them. “Look at it! Look at it!” But when they look at it, they don’t see what I see. Instead, they think it is the ugliest little thing they’ve ever seen. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to drop the pet and think it might be a little bit ugly. I just start smuggling it around with me under my shirt. Giggling at its little movements and letting it pop its head out every now and then for a breath of fresh air and to see if anyone else thinks its cute. It’s like a first-love almost. Giddy and addictive.