Letters To Emotions

Dear Emotions...

Dear Emotions,

Hey.

This is bound to be interesting. You don't know me personally, but holy shit, do I know you. You've been around since I began existing. Always present, always whispering your little chemicals into my brain. I have to say that I'm not quite sure how I feel about you. Ha. Feel? How I feel about you? Get it? 

Ahem. Okay. Moving on.

You have this way about showing up at the worst possible moments. I am not exaggerating. And while you are excellent at providing me with an array of lovely feelings, you are an expert at literally crushing every single dream I've ever had. And I am sorry to say that I am often a downer, but who's fault is that? (You'll also find that I have quite an attitude. That is also your fault.)

Anyway, I write to you because I am trying to understand why you make me feel the things I feel. Why do I feel happy when I watch the wind sing to the trees? Why do I get sad when the darkness embraces me? Why do I get angry when someone completely ignores me? Why do I get anxious when I have to talk to strangers?

Well, Emotions, you are very good at your job. I suppose that you have to be, otherwise we would all be machines living inside of fleshy bodies. I can feel you writhing inside of me right now, in fact. Your fingers are clinging to the very fabrics of my brain tissue and it tickles. Your breath is echoing throughout my thoughts and it's fogging up my eyes. You are a part of me and perhaps I should acknowledge that more often.

I guess I should keep allowing your chemicals to swim in my frontal lobe.