I feel too much.
Its a curse more than a blessing. Having said that, it doesn’t mean that I’m weak. I’m a very strong person from the inside. I don’t open up to a lot of people way too soon (extroverted introvert) and maybe that is why it takes a storm to break me down and take all of what I have in me. But then it also doesn’t take much of an effort to get me to break down in tears- a couple of words, a story right from the heart, a shared experience that strikes a chord, a memory, a mother’s embrace, a talk with my grandparents- its not so much and still. I feel drawn to a lot of things too much. I think I should stop feeling so much, breaking down in the shadows of long alleys, in the enclosures of my room and into he fabrics of my clothes, flashing through my cheeks like a meteor and onto my pillow covers and God have there been so many of them. I sometimes think if there are people like me out there, bubbling inside of them questions many of which they would linger on them forever, secrets and stories that they’ve heard which they’ll probably take with them to their graves, feeling so much for the humanity and yet being totally unattached to it.
My mind is this person that debates with me, reasons with me and the heart another, who talks to me, guiding me, consoling me when it breaks caressing me when I feel wounded. They both are different persons and yet the same. They are same because they have agreed that this world isn’t a place for them and that they would stick to my soul, help it to find its way out and leave. Sure they have their days where they argue like a couple and make me lose it, but then they come back stronger, at least with regards to that particular topic or situation.
How I feel. How I feel. I don’t know how I feel, what I feel and shockingly whether someone is even supposed to feel this much. But then it makes sense when I see things happen without a reason, the flowers blooming in full spirit even when they know they’d wither away sooner or later, the sunflower tracing the path of the sun like a long lost lover, a river or a stream following a certain pattern and none other and yet changing that without whining or hinting, a smile on the face of a new born, things where science has to reach and yet it never will.