As I lay here, almost exactly one week later I am reflecting on the foggy 7.5 days before. I know you are departing today, the passion and love and relief of loneliness. Your presence has been a temporary remedy, as many know that’s all I seem to chase temporary remedies. As if I am just trying to get through the next hurdle that brings me closer to the day when my soul checks out of this Purgatory Palace that seems never ending.

Kisses, heartbeats, whispers, promises, tears. We all experience them, they all cause us to feel something, some of us allow ourselves to feel and as we grow we’re told not to go through the pain, the happiness, the agony. Whatever the emotion is it’s bad we’re told. I know I’ve written about similar themes before but, I run into it so often it’s become redundant. Our walls we build aren’t even worth talking about any longer because they are so high and so strong that you couldn’t knock them down nor climb them by the time you feel something which no human deserves to feel alone. Your mortality, we don’t want to feel emotion because we’ve all grown up in societies where survival comes secondary, to beauty, lust, surface-level bullshit. So why would the 15-year-old girl who no one notices is screaming from the inside would want to tell someone when her fellow classmate just got a new pair of True Religions?

Please go re-read that last sentence, to us as adults that seem awful, repulsive, and dark. But, look around, think about your day, how many times did you judge those around you? Then think about how many times your fixed your shirt, or pants or worried about what one person was thinking about you. These perceptions grew from nowhere, we are not born learning to condemn, judge or shun those around us. But, the more we perpetuate such a repugnant reality, the more not only become more and more distant from each other but more importantly we lose ourselves. We no longer know or can identify with our own feelings. Similar to a soldier who has come back from seeing his friends killed feet from him, he tries to avoid these thoughts or anything that would make him feel as though he is reliving that torturous moment.

Our hardening of hearts has become worse than ever now that we can hide behind a screen but, some of us use technology for good, like writers, artists, and bloggers. Letting their emotions flow through their veins, through their fingers and emerging as visual works of art painted, typed or put together by pixels on a screen. This even is hard for someone as sensitive and emotional as myself to express or feel. I may return to this article and finish my thoughts but, at the moment. My heart can’t take any more weight. So for now, I’m going to go to my escape route, my buffer to the emotion, off to the fog.