When I’m actively engaged with my own words, I get so open to the world. It hurts and is scary. I just feel so much. Even driving to work is different. I notice open space and am taken aback. Just small things like this. Everything in the world absorbs into me and it’s hard to feel that much. I become very sensitive to everything (hey writer, find a synonym for everything). Small things become so big. All things mean more than themselves.
Is this the way the world is supposed to be? Or should it be simple and clear cut. A blade of grass is a blade of grass, not a portal into the memory of mowing the lawn and counting as high as I possibly could.
I don’t know.
I’m feeling a lot and I need to push some of these feelings out.