Emotion runs through me so deeply. Everything--every hurt, every laugh, every tear, every flickre in my eyes, each tension in my body affects me at my core. I cannot just cry, I weep. I don't just anger, I rage. I am not happy, I am joyous. It sets me apart, marks me as different, as freak, because I cannot manage the frivolous gaiety of a moody teenager, nor even the careless repose of an average person. My life is set in epic proportions, and thoughts never stop rushing around in my head, my body, like a torrrent of feeling that will drown me if I stop fighting the current for even a second. The more I do so, the more I discover just how exceedingly tiring it is to feel.
The Truth About Me
March 6, 2017