It brings me no joy and not enough comfort to dwell too much on things I've said or written or made or worn in the past.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I do not write often now - not for want of something to say, but from a loathing of all I see and hear. Why dwell upon it?
I'm not writing just about melancholy stuff anymore, I made a point to cover a wide range of emotions.
Everything I write about either I have gone through or I know somebody has gone through, so it's very close to me, but sometimes it's about taking those feelings and exaggerating on them a little bit: being a bit more dramatic but still keeping them relatable.
I love my past, I love my present. I am not ashamed of what I have had, and I am not sad because I no longer have it.
One can't help but be a bit melancholy when you see how the world has changed, and I don't mean that nostalgically.
It gives me a very keen satisfaction that, after listening to my blather all those years, former students are now seeing that I wrote a book, that I did have it in me.
I look back with a mix of emotions: sadness for the people who are gone, nostalgia for times that have passed, but immense gratitude for the wonderful opportunities that came my way.
If you asked me if I wanted more joyful experiences in my life, I wouldn't be at all sure I did, exactly because it proves such a difficult emotion to manage.
By recollecting the pleasures I have had formerly, I renew them, I enjoy them a second time, while I laugh at the remembrance of troubles now past, and which I no longer feel.
As years passed away I have formed the habit of looking back upon that former self as upon another person, the remembrance of whose emotions has been a solace in adversity and added zest to the enjoyment of prosperity.