It winds through skin, stings like poison in the veins, the wonder of feelings, unexplainable and yet born in every being.
The likeness belongs to us all, but the creation and use and abandonment and storage of feelings is a personal choice. In the physical, or in the realm of the unconscious mind, they are there, feeding into every aspect of our world. Our reactions to feelings are as diverse as the fingerprints we are identified by, to each their own.
I hoard my feelings, each has a meaning only I know. I am an emotional, sentimental, person who regurgitates them again and again. I am deep and that depth holds within its space a rinse and repeat cycle. I have fought for things, for people, for moments, for memories that seem to be the ephitamy of pain in my life, washing away the dirt to reveal the cleanliness beneath, to see the lesson I am being shown, holding on instead of being free from their ghostly grasp.
I wonder sometimes if I even have the ability to shun and exile what hurts me or what is a question to my very character because I am the ultimate optimist. I want to believe my feelings matter.
If only I followed my intuition as well as I do my want to be whole, I would avoid such turmoil inside me from the beginning. I am beguiled with words and promises and fears and unrealization of completeness
and as I feel it inside me, I try to be accepting and have faith and hold onto hopes for the life I want for myself and the giving I want to give to my love.
The call of my heart echoes within me and as I move forward, I leave feelings intact. I leave them alive and bury them breathing still. I begin again and again and I know where I want to be, but I wonder of my end and I wonder if I will live long enough to be that someone..
Feelings can weild a razor sharp sword, whether given or received, each one leaves a indelible mark on our souls..as we each take or give we have to realize that we choose the outcome..we choose..