Vent Book

Feelings

You know that feeling where you do some juvenile thing you used to do as a small child. And it gives you this most pure sense of inner peace. Or that feeling you get when you stare out of a window, across any sizable distance. That pain somewhere in your chest as you start remembering bittersweet memories, people, and places. The way that it's painful yet it feels almost blissful in the way it's a subtle pin and not the true measure of the trauma behind these memories. That almost fearful feeling you get when walking outside, the crosswalks and cars seeming almost all consuming unless you're just going in a straight line.

How you can't cut corners and have to follow the almost gridlike planning of the street. How if you step out of the crosswalk, or take lines that aren't 180 degrees, you begin to panic as if reality itself hinges on following straight lines. To you, reality does hinge on it.

The indescribable way your very soul seems to cry with the moon each night. The infinite sadness held in your soul, the kind all of the great stories are about. A sadness so complete that you feel it agreeing with the moon for all he has seen. That feeling when it seems like the walls are crashing in, you're lost beyond all repair, and everything seems to freeze for a moment, before crashing in each day with increasing speed.

That feeling you get as you realize, you'll fail. How it burns like hot acid in your mind, and even though you're slipping into the event horizon, you'll still fight to try and change it instead of letting it go and learning from him. That feeling when you can't sleep, so you sing to soft voices in your head. The ones that've stuck by you. They haven't changed into voices of anxiety and fear, depression and hopelessness. Or that all too familiar voice of Apathy. They've remained consistent. Whispering that "It'll be alright." "I'll make it in the end." Voices from your past, the you who still believed the world was bright and innocent. The you to whom it had always seemed in memories of this you, the sun is brighter.

The colors more vibrant, the sky more blue. Each day was an endless summer day. No responsibilities, no worries. No fears, and no evil in the world. For a brief time you knew what being happy was. And now you're convinced that you never knew what happiness was. That feeling, where despite your scars, you stand on a windswept hillside. Standing strong in the face of the sheer violence your past has come to combat you with.

That feeling where you awkwardly laugh to chase off that acknowledgement of something that bothers you so deeply.

That feeling when you see a message from a friend. The burst of giddy joy and anticipation as it's someone you actually don't need to expend energy to like. That feeling when you accomplish something, and in your chest your heart seems to swell, and just like that, everything you've ever done or said is okay. Because you've done what you set out to do, and nothing will ever change that.