My Apology

Emotions

I write emotions.
I don't write weird and difficult metaphors to understand like many others do, calling their lover the Sun to their Icarus, the light to their darkness or the nail to their skin.
I write feelings:
Agony and anger.
Sadness and joy.
Fear and disgust.
And many, many more.

Sometimes I don't even know from whom the emotions are coming from.
Sometimes it's me, sometimes it's my mother, my father, or my brother.
Sometimes it's the woman down the street, crying for her husband to love her again, praying to her God above to hear and aid her, to be with her and save her.

Sometimes it's the little boy from kindergarten who used to keep quiet when he fell, who fought back his tears because he claimed "boys don't cry, I'm strong as a big man", and went back to playing with his friends as if nothing had happened, only his knee felt harsher to the touch now.

Sometimes it's that old couple from the park who hold their hands while watching strangers pass by. They chat slowly and chuckle lowly as their voice can't reach to speak much louder, but as they do, they remember their youth when they see kids playing, teens loving, and adults fighting while they walk around that same old park they knew too well.
Sometimes it's that same elderly woman from that sweet couple, sitting in the chair of her nursing home, sad and alone, mourning the death of who was once her true love.

Sometimes it's that barista from the little cafeteria down the street, who just got her first job and is nervous to her core, praying that the first order of the day won't be one too hard to complete.

Feelings come and go as they wish, it's hard to control them and easy to break through all the emotion one feels.
The happiness I'm feeling could turn into sadness in a matter of seconds.
The disgust could turn into fear and the anger to joy.

Many can claim that they've got their feelings under control, inside a tiny glass box where they can't escape.
But even they know glass is doomed to shatter, maybe by the slight fall caused by a small breeze, or a big push to the floor caused by a curious cat who was just passing by.

Emotions can't be entirely controlled, as well as restrained.
Feeling desperation for your lover isn't bad.
Crying after falling doesn't make you less brave.
Loving and weeping makes you human, and being nervous is really just a natural reaction of our heart.

Writing isn't about metaphors and big words.
It's about this.
Letting all those retained emotions out for once, without ever feeling judged.