Yes, shrug, I have a lot of feelings.
I’ve always been told: “Don’t be like this.”
As I wept for the unknown sorrows of the world, I remember my mother looking upon me, strong, calm, rational, afraid: “Don’t be like that.” She was afraid for me, for my heart in this world, where a heart that feels too much is at risk forever.
“Don’t be like that,” they said.
Yes, sometimes my heart bursts for grief I cannot name, for the sorrows of hearts in the universe, for the parting that never ends, for the unknowable sadness in my heart but also in yours.
Sometimes I feel like sensitive radio equipment, picking up frequencies though I don’t know what they are.
And then I am told I feel too much, as if that was bad or wrong.
Look around you.
Or close your eyes and open your hearts.
You feel too little.
You weep too little.
You rage too little.
You shut your eyes and will not see the tears, the horrors, the sorrows.
I open my eyes, I see them, I embrace them, I let them into my heart.