Post by rosalynearsby53 on Jul 26, 2016 0:52:31 GMT -5
I am aware of of my temperament as an actor. I am hyper sensitive to life.
I feel the air around me envelop my bones as I walk.
I feel the vibration in my throat and see the waves float away as I talk.
I am aware of the feeling of a room.
The temperature, the noise, the stillness of the air.
I can close my eyes and feel the room despite not even being there.
I know my body- it's curves, it's edges and it's tendencies,
I feel the slightest change or hear the slightest melody.
Being aware allows me to recreate.
It allows me to imagine, and overall it allows me to feel.
To feel things.
I do not usually fight my tendency to feel things.
But every now and then there comes a feeling that I cannot recreate.
The touch of a person that is gone or the feel of a carpet floor that is thousands of miles away.
The laughter of a friend or the sigh of a lover I have not heard and will not hear.
There is indefinite silence.
A whole in my heart that is usually filled with sense, mocked with compliance.
I love my temperament, I love my ability to feel.
But sometimes it mocks me with sensations I am unable to steal.
Feelings that have left me and noises that are silent and smells that are absent and textures that have softened and sights I cannot see.
I am hyper-sensitive to life.
Sometimes it's blessing and sometimes it's a curse.
If anything It lends itself to writing mediocre verse.
Feeling allows me to remember, but sometimes I'd like to forget.
Both the feelings of the joy and the feelings of regret.
Not because I shouldn't have felt them, but because I wouldn't have so much to yearn for.
To long for, and ache for, and wish for, and burn for.
If I didn't feel my experiences,
I wouldn't know what I miss.
That look of the rain or the touch of a kiss.
I am hyper sensitive to life.
But If my feelings weren't so overt
There wouldn't be so much hurt.
I feel the air around me envelop my bones as I walk.
I feel the vibration in my throat and see the waves float away as I talk.
I am aware of the feeling of a room.
The temperature, the noise, the stillness of the air.
I can close my eyes and feel the room despite not even being there.
I know my body- it's curves, it's edges and it's tendencies,
I feel the slightest change or hear the slightest melody.
Being aware allows me to recreate.
It allows me to imagine, and overall it allows me to feel.
To feel things.
I do not usually fight my tendency to feel things.
But every now and then there comes a feeling that I cannot recreate.
The touch of a person that is gone or the feel of a carpet floor that is thousands of miles away.
The laughter of a friend or the sigh of a lover I have not heard and will not hear.
There is indefinite silence.
A whole in my heart that is usually filled with sense, mocked with compliance.
I love my temperament, I love my ability to feel.
But sometimes it mocks me with sensations I am unable to steal.
Feelings that have left me and noises that are silent and smells that are absent and textures that have softened and sights I cannot see.
I am hyper-sensitive to life.
Sometimes it's blessing and sometimes it's a curse.
If anything It lends itself to writing mediocre verse.
Feeling allows me to remember, but sometimes I'd like to forget.
Both the feelings of the joy and the feelings of regret.
Not because I shouldn't have felt them, but because I wouldn't have so much to yearn for.
To long for, and ache for, and wish for, and burn for.
If I didn't feel my experiences,
I wouldn't know what I miss.
That look of the rain or the touch of a kiss.
I am hyper sensitive to life.
But If my feelings weren't so overt
There wouldn't be so much hurt.