It's crazy to me how much or how little can be said in one rotation of the red needle on a clock. I walked into the room. A circle of chairs were before me and I had a choice to make on which one I would place the comfort of my secrets into. I took a seat next to the only other person in the room. I casually extended a "Hey!" I got no response. The clock ticked on...the two counsellors stride across the room and take their own places as well. We sat in silence waiting for others to come to our circle in which we would break through walls, confess our ghosts. No one came. So there were four. The lady counsellor extended an invitation for the other person to start the ball of confessions rolling. One sentence summed it all up for them..."I don't like people." I sit staring at the clock while I too confess what bothers my soul. I stare blankly and fidget a tad, I suppose in nervous efforts to open myself up to strangers. I've been there before...I've opened up to strangers. I've let them in and allowed myself to love and be loved. It's never ended well. Why did I feel like this would be any different? They are still people. Flesh and blood just as every other. I've never quite figured out if everyone else has a heart or if it's just me. Not just any heart like the paper ones people usually sew on the surface. Real hearts that pulse with feeling and emotion. I have always felt and continue to feel alone in that regard. I'm the only one who feels things. And as much as I try to not feel and push the emotions aside and power through anything and everything I always come back to my heart. It's comfortable for me to feel. Also I guess I've become comfortable with being betrayed, and disappointed. Which leads me to my next trail of thoughts...do I look for hurt? Have I become so obsessed with feeling and the hurt that comes from that, that I just jump to feeling the hurting? I hear that sometimes it's one way to know we're alive.
"How do you feel about what was just said? How does that effect you?" These are questions that in that moment I didn't honestly care about. I felt nothing. I understood and was hearing what was being said but I felt nothing. And for the first time in possibly my entire life I felt nothing. I formed no bond, no bond to a person, no bond to any words. I felt the same as I did when I walked into the room. What had been said didn't effect me. It just gave me understanding. Some sort of reason.
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