yearning.

Moving into my old room floods my mind with distracting memories. I've had some of my best creative moments in that room. I taught myself to sew, paint, and dress. I've stayed up all night alone in that room too many times to count; heaving furniture across the carpet, trying to piece new outfits together with my latest D.I. purchases, creating art and hanging up my latest work.
But above all, I recall an overall yearning more than any actual or single event.
I feel like any of you who knew me back then would confirm that this yearning continuously gnawed at me.
I never knew what I was yearning for: creativity, romance, success, adventure, music?
More likely a combination of all of the above.
When I heard a song that seemed to express my inner yearning I'd say that I had an ardent desire for it to exist tangibly, so I could touch it or cuddle up in it.
Yearning gave me a sense of wild motivation to be spontaneous and driven, but also desperate. It was for the most part, exciting, but I often wanted to satiate it. I expected something or someone to be capable of satisfying it for me. But I was also scared to loose it in case I also lost the compelling motivation that it accompanied.
Was it all just immaturity? Hormones? Does every teenager experience something similar?
All I know is that the contrast between my new and old self standing in that room has revealed that it's gone. I'm happy it is.
I enjoy contentment more than I'd ever supposed. I've reigned my creative efforts in, making them more focused, channeled, and predictable. I spend much greater portions of my time doing constructive things.