I’m not talking about masochism… I’m talking about feeling the full width and breadth of the human experience and the human condition. I’m talking about feeling your first heartbreak in the back of your throat every time you swallow. I’m talking about choosing to feel. And all the people that don’t have to choose to feel… That feel the hunger of the world in the vacant belly of their chest. I’m talking about the lovers the dreamers, the romantics who never turned bitter and hard…who kept their valves open like speeding wildernesses. I’m talking about the hurt – the people who aren’t afraid to get hurt, and the people who can’t escape the everlasting existential heartbreak of being alive. The people who feel it. I’m talking about the feeling of feeling it. Allowing yourself to feel. Choosing to feel. Choosing to be human and unafraid. Choosing to open the tiny birdcage of your heart to the spinning slopes of the world. And all the glory that that gives you. And all the power that that gives you. And all the ferocity that that gives you. All the humanity and sublime empowerment that that gives you. People talk about it all wrong… Like believing in the capability and organic highs and lows of human emotion is a weakness or hysterics or something to hold you back from the aimless capitalistic search for undefined meaning. But that’s not what it is at all. It is wholly the opposite. It is wholly being whole. It is doing the whole thing. Unafraid to be fully alive. It is bravery. It is what the world is lacking. It is passion and faith and hope. It is pain and it is trust. Feel it all. Feel anything at all. Be whole. Choose to feel.

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