I will always be this passionate about people, of sunlight, of a warm cup of coffee, the little things that often go unnoticed. the overwhelm of life will always come for me, the overwhelm of feeling will always stop me dead in my tracks.
grief is a natural disaster, joy belongs on cloud nine, anger takes form in violent hysteria, love feels like skydiving with a faulty parachute. it never mattered to me if the glass was half empty or half full, all I could ever take into account was a glass worth of emotions that never stopped spilling over.
I swing between the pendulum of it being too empty, and often too full. my heart sets off fireworks, I’m accustomed to have to feel in order to feel alive. so it I suppose it makes sense if having nothing happening out of an adamant routine would so easily convince me why I am having such a hard time staying alive.
that’s it, when you feel like I feel — you need emotion to remind yourself why you’re a human being. I was stuck in such a remote and isolated void that I forgot what being alive felt like.
