Every time a feeling pops up, I crush it down.
I don’t have a license to feel.
I’m not equipped with the capacity to process what these things are.
I’m not sure where they came from or what their purpose is but I don’t have tools to handle all these emotions.
The worst part is that people expect me to pretend like I do.
I don’t know.
I’m not someone who holds feelings in his hand.
When they fall into my fingertips I try to drop them on the ground. They are hot to the touch. They make me feel tangled inside.
My feelings are something I’ve questioned my entire life. I was made to feel like they didn’t matter and neither did I as a young boy because I was told I was worthless. I was made to feel that any feelings I had weren’t worth acknowledging let alone speaking aloud. So I didn’t say anything. I swallowed them with the rest of my food and I stayed quiet, watching my dad put his gun in the holster and go to work at the police station. That’s what men did, they worked to support their families. I wanted my dad to play with me, take me to the park, throw me a ball or something, anything…but he was never actually there. He was being a man.
I never got a license to feel. Everyone else seemed to have found their’s but mine was either lost in the mail or it wasn’t sent at all.
As a man, being sensitive and depressed isn’t an option.
I have no choice but to live without feelings.
Just like my dad did.
I wonder if I’ll ever find out what it’s like to feel again. Who knows?
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