no because i doubt i even intellectualize my emotions. sure, i assign some coherence to them. sprinkle in salted self awareness. but i don’t think i ever cradle them close afterwards, accepting them. no. i pretend i know what i feel and i accept that, and when no one’s looking (myself, hundreds of reflections in broken mirrors) i take a knife and shear it away like cutting through clay. i trim and disfigure it the way fire burns flesh off a bone, getting rid of substance and leaving behind a mere trace. i turn my emotions from some intellectualized whole to a barely-there thing. like a house withered away in storms. and it is this portion of clay i allow to harden, that i place on my head like half a crown and claim, “yes, i feel like this because so and so.” but why is it that even after all the shearing, the burning away, the withering and ignoring and avoiding they come back and i find myself shattering on a random tuesday? i throw the crown away, feeling like the discarded clay somehow runs in my veins and solidifies my entire being into sorrow, heartache, betrayal, all these nasty emotions I keep away from like monsters in a closet. or at times i don’t even know how i feel. ignorance is so blissful i’m not aware of what my own heart is saying until it screams at me and i can do nothing but cry.