We're not broken just bent

Sometimes, when I am very still, I can feel the soft but steady beat of my heart so distinctly that if I close my eyes, my entire existence seems to become absorbed with each thud, thud, thud...until I am nothing but a heart, beating in pitch darkness.

Most people's thoughts arise from within the skull, but mine are born at the center of my rib cage. I can't help but allow myself to be controlled by feelings, seized by impulses, driven by intangible forces. It is as if my blood is the fuel for the fire that ignites in the core of my being and spreads throughout my body. Obeying is the only way to put it out.

Tonight, I am drinking wine, because it is the nectar of the gods, brought to Olympus by doves. Ambrosia is supposed to grant immortality, but I do not quite feel alive. I simply feel. I feel shame for the "51 deaths in Egypt" that are nothing but a headline to me. I feel dismay for the couples who throw their love away without even trying. I feel powerless for patients of terminal illnesses. I feel angry for the innocent man who lost his legs in the Boston marathon bombing. I feel regret for the children who were never born. But the worst feeling is knowing that I will never truly feel any of these things. I can put myself in someone else's shoes as much as I want, but in the end, it is impossible to feel what another human being feels. Empathy does not exist.

Sometimes I think that heartbreak is not so bad: it is the one feeling that is the opposite of feeling, as it destroys the very thing you feel with. But then I remember that without feelings I would be nothing, and since that is a terrifying thought, I urge you to treat these words with as little regard as there is wine left in the bottle beside me. How can I feel so much, but not feel anything at all?

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