I don’t really cry anymore, at least, not often. I feel like I may be a little emotionally numb, like I don’t get angry or upset at things I know should both anger and upset me.
Bad things which i disagree with in my core.
I know people who are captivated by things, like paintings. I know a man who, whenever he visits Edinburgh, will go to a gallery there and simply sit in front of a specific painting he loves. He sits there for ages. The painting has a profound effect on him. He’s never told me what exactly the effect is, but I think it’s that odd feeling that lingers between happiness and sadness. You know the one, it’s a rare feeling but it does exist. It happens at those points of which we don’t quite understand. A friend leaving the country to pursue their dream. A mother ending her life on her own terms. I’m sure there is a word for it but I don’t know it yet. When this man looks at his painting, it is really beautiful.
I can’t remember the last time I cried, but it was a while ago. Is it a selfish thing to want to feel sadness more often? I am not saying that I am always happy, but sometimes, I just feel empty. It scares me that I am emotionally withdrawn from sadness. It makes it hard for me to empathise with others.
I think one thing I need to do with emotions is that when they arise, I should lash them to my chest like a maroon would to their lifesaving, ramshackle raft in a storm. I need to truly feel emotion. Feel their rhythms, motions, wavelengths, their heat and their cold.
I think repressing emotions eventually numbs you to their presence. It’s good to really feel once in a while.