I have been learning how to feel my feelings. Apparently I’m not very good at it. I am assured it will be for the best, though remain unconvinced. For a start, I am assuming it was with good reason that my brain shoved them in the bottom draw with the abandoned single socks (whose partners ran off and left them without a word of explanation). Also, I seem to have only two major feelings that boss the others around with wild abandon – all puffed up and insistent on their right to exist – anger and sadness.
I am willing to concede that they have proven useful at times. Such as when I am angry. To my astonishment I have found that the honest expression of my feelings has been quite freeing. Though I’ve noted that the target of my fury often doesn’t appear to be quite as enchanted by the experience as I am.
Or when watching a sunrise while accompanied by a beautiful melancholy. They sit side by side so well, the sadness nestled into the rising golden light. The sunrise all the more significant when bathed in a touch of sorrow. A sense of softness that comes from allowing my heart to feel what it feels without judgment, melting away the night.