So afraid of feelings.
All of us.
What won’t we do to avoid the vulnerable little piece of neediness, openness and realness, the crazy being who can fly, who needs no food to survive, who is so super-powerful in this augmented reality, augmented from the reality of the other person toward whom we feel feelings.
So tempting, all that power. The moment we start feeling feelings, we feel the power on the other side of the door, we feel drawn to this alternative reality and all its potential; above all, to its ability to make everything feel alright, like we have witnessed, like how it feels to think about and be with that person.
But we also know that side by side with the temptation, exists the knowledge of the vulnerability that is waiting to engulf us. It may not be conscious but we stay away from each other, we draw our boundaries, we protect our egos. We comfort ourselves with the knowledge of who replied last. We put the magical experience we had into a familiar narrative: it was just hanging out, it was just a one night stand, it was just a tinder date; and we treat our experience according to what’s appropriate to those contexts and the expectations.
I do not dare say anything more than what I am expected to feel.
I am afraid. My feelings are excessive.
I do not want to impose attachment and a needy self on you. I don’t want you to deal with the vulnerabilities that you don’t want, nor feel.
Does that mean I cannot even tell you about my experience?
I cannot ask you: what if, maybe, you don’t want to run away from my feelings?
I want to run away from them myself, and I know them from the inside, wrestle with them, know their validity and beautiful power. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to run away too, you who are not even acquainted with them.