This is one of those days when I wish I had an anonymous blog.
Or that I was better at faking it.
I know people who do it. They put on a happy face and pretend like nothing is wrong. They dance for their quarters because it’s what is expected of them. And they do it so convincingly that you would never guess that they were anything less than sincere.
They don’t make waves.
They don’t hurt people’s feelings.
They act on things like logic and reason.
I think about things like logic and reason, and I act on instinct and feeling. I write on emotion.
I write to work through the emotions. Without the words, they latch on to my insides and twist and turn, trying to find their way to the light. I can’t breathe or think straight until they are out of me.
But today, there is no place for them to go.
Everything I’m thinking is wrong. Everything I’m feeling is under the microscope, waiting to be analyzed. My emotions, today, are not my own. They are the catalyst to someone else’s emotions. They are the reason you feel what you feel. They have to be monitored, kept in check, for fear of them causing hurt elsewhere.
My hands are tied. My lungs are bound.
I want so badly to cut the ties and run to a space where I can just be.
Where I can feel with no remorse.
Where I can breathe. Freely.
But today, this is not that space.