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Feeling and not feeling

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The longer I live the harder it is to discern between the stronger emotions. They all spill into each other where they begin. The longer I go, though, the more I can tell between not feeling and feeling. For this is all that seems to matter.

Not feeling puts me on the sideline, makes the world black and white, and me, a dry shade of grey. Only feeling keeps me in the scene.

This evening I met a woman who I knew from far but far from knew - our conversation started in a shy staccato way and as we moulded into the sofa her stories unfolded. It never fails to humble me the boldness and fear that we all experience and live right along side each other in our living beating experiences of life - she mesmerised me with all of that. I left feeling sad, for very different reasons.

I've worked so long and hard to be able to feel my way into the lives of others, only to realise that we are all this way. Sometimes the skin of mind is torn and we are no longer separate human beings. When the talking is done we become still proofs of life. I'm leaving this story feeling more than one heart should and I can't tell if I'm in trouble or on holy ground.

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