It’s an odd thing. Feeling like you’re not really existing.
There are the actual feelings, of course. Feeling the rush of oncoming consciousness as the morning hours roll you over. Feeling the sinking within your chest when words are missed, or orated too truly. Feeling the weight of a day that grew too heavy, or the literal shock that ripples your skin as a fist is thrown too viciously. The feeling of big and small. Of positive and negative, love and hate. But without the bits in between. The good stuff that makes us really feel it. Not think it, but feel it.
All the while, is the feeling of forgotten; numb; unreal. Like the world is happening while you’ve pressed pause on your present consciousness, and you can’t tell the difference when you press play. Now maybe it’s a topic of self-affliction, of thinking too much within your own neuro space to notice the suddenness of life experience. I’m not sure, but I am sure that this is an odd thing all the same. Because it’s real, and what’s funny is that it coincides with the impossible simultaneity of feeling unreal. Not there. False. Invalid. Fiction. Whatever.
I’ve come to think that this interesting thing is a result of two things:
Thinking the world, quite literally, into your head.
Forgetting that reality, is not so easily controlled.
We retreat to our minds to remain where we are in control. And in that light, we lose control of our present reality. Capturing a moment, feeling the breeze, letting your mind fall into nothingness… All of it. And that’s the odd thing.
That we all manage to function each day pretending so perfectly to have control. To have an existence.
But I’ve also realized something. It’s all we’ve got.