There are people I wish I would have never met. People I once wanted to meet, once wanted to know. But then, unintentionally, the terrible memory of them stuck to my brain, leaving a stain on everything I thought was beautiful. That memory isn’t one of heartache- it’s guilt. It’s terror, it’s that feeling of not being connected with your body. It’s dread: that feeling of panic, minus the actual panic. It’s the memories that numb you when you think of them- not hurt you. Hurt was never the right word. Being in pain, that’s a sign you’re alive. This? It felt like a calm mess, like an almost-death. It was more like dully putting pressure on the lower part of your heart; it’s not a sharp pain, it’s not something you can decipher easily. Maybe that’s why words can never explain what emotions feel like. Maybe words are too specific, too easy to understand. They’re not confusing in the way feelings are; because each word can stand individually, on its own, while feelings are all stacked over each other, they’re stuck inside each other. You can’t have one without the other, but at the same time, you can. You’ll have two different emotions making your head rip into a million thoughts. And when it all gets too much, when you get overwhelmed from it all, you won’t cry with a dagger in your heart, like when you’re lost in a forest and can’t find your way back. You’ll cry because everything is too confusing, because you’re tired; you’ll cry psychological tears, not physical ones. And, God did it take me ages to understand what that meant.
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