Five Hundred Words a Day: Feel

How many emotions do you think one can feel in a day? Here, let me tell you. I woke up and felt tired and a little in pain from resting in a funny position. I felt frustrated I couldn’t do what I wanted to do today, and then I felt confused from the strange, war-like and science fiction-style dream I had. I felt hungry, then I felt satisfied. I felt a little too cold, then I felt relaxed after I stretched. I felt sort of clanky, like I hadn’t been oiled properly and I was trying to start myself on a winter morning. I felt bored when I sat down to do work. I felt amusement when I took part in a Twitter meme. I felt happy my friend was doing okay and pleased I would be seeing some other friends, then hungry again. I felt accomplished when I finally did what I needed to do. I felt strange when I recognised what I really wanted. I felt slightly miffed when someone sassed me, then peaceful as it helped me understand myself more. I felt, I felt, I felt and I didn’t stop feeling. Right now I feel thirsty, a little tired, and a little uncomfortable as my sitting posture isn’t quite correct. There is no way to stop feeling, all day long, no matter how hard we try. We feel minutely: here, the plastic of the keyboard feels sweaty, tacky and a little jelly-like under my fingertips. Here, where my knee rests over my other knee in a pair of thin, black tights it feels hot and static. Here, my stomach feels full and warm and slightly greasy from fish and chips for tea. Here, I feel a hollowed-out sadness where I miss you, and on top of that, a light bubbling where I know what comes next will mean the hollowed-out-ness will end. Here, I feel a relief as I start to give my possessions away, and at the same time a sensation as if my fingers are caught on fly-paper and I don’t want to let go of that plate or cup or book. Here, I feel surprised I made it through the day. Here, I feel impotent. Here, I feel as if a dark blue blanket has been laid over my face and a bowl of lukewarm water dripped into it, gradually suffocating me as I feel the presence of a black dog. Here, I feel the heat of a body next to mine; a wolf, ready to move into the right position to protect the pack. Here, I feel the humidity of the jungle resting on my skin and the softness of your inner arm on my stomach. I feel the brush of a mosquito net on my naked body. I feel the river rapids push me along and I feel the river rock graze my knee. I feel autumn coming, and winter, and spring and summer after that. I feel it all, always. Here, I feel.

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