With hearts to feel & messes to create

I lay here and wonder why I am the person I am.

I sit here and feel all of the feelings that are swelling in my chest, aching to be free, to become words. But I can't possibly put them all into words. If I did, I 'd have myself a novel.

And a Sequel.

And probably a Prequel. 

So I let them sit in my chest, giving me heavy organs and cold feet. And yet. I can't bear to part with them, not after they seem to have shaped me into myself. If feelings didn't exist, life would be much easier to deal with. And yet. Nobody would be the way they are today, now. Nobody would really exist. We would all just be sitting lumps with bones & hearts & brains that only half work, because we couldn't feel. Life would be a bore. But. With feelings and emotions and all the baggage they come with, we are shaped into human beings. Into individuals that desire different things like cats and paint and words. And that's what makes you, you.




Forever Yours,
Rachel