Status: possibilty of continuation.
Give Me Feeling.
1.
I always want to laugh.
Because, I love laughing. It’s such a beautiful feeling that crawls up through some magical hole in your arse and spreads - much like an infection – upwards, filling in every hole and crevice within your body until it finally reaches a place where it can release itself in all its glorious beauty. Yeah. I love laughing.
Crying, on the other hand, I don’t like so much. This feeling starts more at your toes, I think. It seeps into your feet, kind of like how disgustingly murky water is absorbed by a sponge, and then it continues its way upwards, oozing in a sludgy fashion, coating your insides as it makes it way up and up. When it finally reaches its release point, it drips out clear but containing ugly and destructive emotions.
Screaming’s great though. Absolutely fantastic. I love the anticipation as it rumbles and builds in the pit of your stomach, burning with such intensity that it almost scorches a hole through the wall of your abdomen. Then, much like a crazed bull on steroids, it plunges upward through your chest and allows itself to grow and grow until finally being ragingly, wildly, unleashed.
But…I guess smiling is pretty okay too. It’s no laugh or scream but it does have a certain quality. It slowly takes form somewhere in your cheeks, gracefully pulling at muscles to make a piece of art right there on your face. It’s a mixture of soft gentleness and overwhelming excitement to see the miracle take place – it’s neither joy nor apathy; it’s caught at a perfect midway point.
I hate anger. It makes me feel dirty. It always starts in your fists, attaching and coating itself to the skin of your hands like a pair of snugly-fit gloves, ready for conflict. It then spreads – this more like a rash – and boils your skin, making it fizzle and tremble beneath the tremendous pressure. The release is much slower, eventually cooling and fading until finally falling away, just leaving a telltale pastel red sheen across the still slightly prickly surface of your skin.
I like calm. It’s positively delightful. The way it filters through your entire being, like airy wisps of musk mingled with zesty pineapple, is strangely overwhelming before gently subsiding to just be content. It surrounds you like silvery pixie dust, giving you a mind-blowing aura of absolute godliness. It’s tingly, but in a warm and welcomed way. Delightful.
I’m not sure about love though. It doesn’t really start anywhere, nor does it have any indicative signs. It’s wild and chameleon, forever changing forms and intensities. Sometimes it starts at your knees, making them useless and weak, other times it starts in your chest, throbbing and pulsating in the most erratic way. And sometimes, it lasts for such long periods of time that it just becomes a part of you and others it just slowly ebbs away until it’s so faint that it just disappears altogether.
Emotions interest me. No, they fascinate me. Wait, enthral? No, no, I’ll stick with fascinate. That’s good. Yes, I like that word.
Emotions fascinate me.
Because, I love laughing. It’s such a beautiful feeling that crawls up through some magical hole in your arse and spreads - much like an infection – upwards, filling in every hole and crevice within your body until it finally reaches a place where it can release itself in all its glorious beauty. Yeah. I love laughing.
Crying, on the other hand, I don’t like so much. This feeling starts more at your toes, I think. It seeps into your feet, kind of like how disgustingly murky water is absorbed by a sponge, and then it continues its way upwards, oozing in a sludgy fashion, coating your insides as it makes it way up and up. When it finally reaches its release point, it drips out clear but containing ugly and destructive emotions.
Screaming’s great though. Absolutely fantastic. I love the anticipation as it rumbles and builds in the pit of your stomach, burning with such intensity that it almost scorches a hole through the wall of your abdomen. Then, much like a crazed bull on steroids, it plunges upward through your chest and allows itself to grow and grow until finally being ragingly, wildly, unleashed.
But…I guess smiling is pretty okay too. It’s no laugh or scream but it does have a certain quality. It slowly takes form somewhere in your cheeks, gracefully pulling at muscles to make a piece of art right there on your face. It’s a mixture of soft gentleness and overwhelming excitement to see the miracle take place – it’s neither joy nor apathy; it’s caught at a perfect midway point.
I hate anger. It makes me feel dirty. It always starts in your fists, attaching and coating itself to the skin of your hands like a pair of snugly-fit gloves, ready for conflict. It then spreads – this more like a rash – and boils your skin, making it fizzle and tremble beneath the tremendous pressure. The release is much slower, eventually cooling and fading until finally falling away, just leaving a telltale pastel red sheen across the still slightly prickly surface of your skin.
I like calm. It’s positively delightful. The way it filters through your entire being, like airy wisps of musk mingled with zesty pineapple, is strangely overwhelming before gently subsiding to just be content. It surrounds you like silvery pixie dust, giving you a mind-blowing aura of absolute godliness. It’s tingly, but in a warm and welcomed way. Delightful.
I’m not sure about love though. It doesn’t really start anywhere, nor does it have any indicative signs. It’s wild and chameleon, forever changing forms and intensities. Sometimes it starts at your knees, making them useless and weak, other times it starts in your chest, throbbing and pulsating in the most erratic way. And sometimes, it lasts for such long periods of time that it just becomes a part of you and others it just slowly ebbs away until it’s so faint that it just disappears altogether.
Emotions interest me. No, they fascinate me. Wait, enthral? No, no, I’ll stick with fascinate. That’s good. Yes, I like that word.
Emotions fascinate me.