The older I get the more I have feelings about things. I think I’ve always been intuitive. I had a feeling about each friend before I even spoke to them, and I could tell when someone was going to play a role in my life, even if I didn’t know what it would be or for how long. That is something I can never guess: how long. It sometimes is an intense experience for a weekend. Sometimes it’s a friend you see here and there over the years and that relationship never changes.

As I get older though I have these underlying feelings about things, and it seems to be swelling, like obtaining a life of its own. Who is truly a friend, who to let go of, and who to open up to, and then break away from. There is more of a buzz between us, like I meet you and I know in our silence what is missing or what is unsaid. I can feel this dynamic even if it isn’t spoken or acted out, but like a twitch in the eye or a movement of the body.

Maybe this isn’t new. Maybe it isn’t suddenly stronger, and instead is something I’m more aware of, the subconscious awareness of connections between people. I want to let go sooner. I want to support only the people who open their eyes and feel deeply. I don’t care about your perfect grammar, but I do care about what you see and how you describe it. I’m on this new level of living. I’m attracted to different people, and different people are attracted to me. It was like a plateau, and then a giant hike in solitude, and now here I am on another field of thinkers. We meander on our own but together, sensing each other’s presence. I feel you. You think. You feel me too. I think. I think maybe we our drawn together. And I moved away from the grasping hands of the past, and only look back on occasion when they call for me, and I can’t disappear.

This material world. This thinking world. This in between. You see what you want to see, and try to see everything, but you feel nothing. I can do that but it scares you. So I left. I have feelings about things.