Time to time I’ll consider writing a blog post about my feelings. Not about my opinions, which are subjective and experiential and I like talking about them, and I like listening to other people talk about their own. Those are feelings and thoughts about objects. I’ve had people I know espouse joyous opinions of products I hate, and it’s been really worth my time to listen to them. Not opinions, then; feelings.
Feelings are worse. Feelings are dangerous. Feelings are what happen when someone tells me something, and my immediate reaction is to want to tell them to fuck off. Feelings are what happens when someone posts a selfie and I feel embarassed about finding them attractive. Feelings are what happens when someone I admire, who I wasn’t following on twitter, follows me. Feelings are strange and complex and I am used to knowing that mine are hard, sharp, jagged things that tear around me.
I find it best to express feelings on twitter. They slide away easily, carried along on a timestream where I know they will probably go unseen. No, if something I say on twitter, I know it won’t come back to me unless I made someone else mad by the saying of it.
We’re packing the house. I had a rotten day. I miss my grandma. I miss my ferrets. I hate that I feel stupid adding names to my spellchecker. I hate being jealous of other people. I hate responding to people who aren’t listening to me.
I feel bad.
None of it is your fault. You’ve done nothing wrong. Do not, please, do not, feel guilty about anything you’ve said to me. This feeling is mine, and mine alone, and if I wasn’t making an effort to post every day, chances are I’d have let this slip away.
A new chapter of One Stone goes up in a few hours so you can read it at lunch, or just let it pass you by in the morning rush as well. I hope you have a great day.