A Pustule of Emotion
“I cry a lot. My emotions are very close to my surface. I don’t want to hold anything in so it festers and turns into pus—a pustule of emotion that explodes into a festering cesspool of depression.” –Nicolas Cage I wrote once that I felt like I had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. I think I’d read that somewhere else, so it’s probably plagiarism if I say that was an original tough, but I felt like it suited me. I valued intellect and ambition as a teenager and as much as I did feel emotions and try to love, I know I hardly ever let myself truly feel all the emotions my soul wanted me to experience. In the past few years, I’ve made some more conscious efforts and decisions to feel more. To feel better. (Better as an adverb.) And sometimes that sucks. Because it means I cry more. It means I feel less stable. It means I’m more at war with myself trying to figure out how I feel and how to act upon those feelings. Sometimes it’s easy to discern. Sometimes it’s not....