Sometimes it amazes me how intensely I am able to convince myself of having feelings.
Sometimes there are no feelings and I know throughout the process that there are no feelings, until the process comes to a halt. At which point, my mind convinces myself that there were, and currently exist, the feels.
And once there is no longer need for feelings, suddenly I think that I am full of them.
I don’t know what is real, and what is not, and never do I really know how I feel, or if I do. I am excellent at mirroring another person’s feelings towards me, and I am excellent at disguising my own feelings from myself. So if I do begin to realize the feelings, I never know if they were always there or if they were made up on the spot.
What are feelings? You would think that someone who makes all her decisions based off of them, who wears them on her sleeve for the world to know, who lets them impact her day so severely, would know. But I don’t know. I don’t know anything.
But I do know myself pretty well. And I know for a fact that I am, at least internally, emotionally, a very convincing liar.