I am trying to figure out…how to coexist with my feelings. So far, I’ve let them shove me around, drag me under, ride my bike, steal cheese from my fridge, borrow my books without returning them, and generally take the helm of my life-boat. What ### if I lived in a world where I didn’t melt in a puddle on the floor after getting rejected by one of the fifteen jobs I applied for? What if I built a house that didn’t collapse into a pile of cheddar popcorn and blankets every time I ran into my ex? Good feelings, too, take their toll. Before I remembered I had this card in my backpack, I was sitting in the college library for half an hour — okay, it was a whole hour — listening to my “homework playlist” and smiling like a dummy because some guy I met three days ago was texting me. No, he wasn’t even #### texting me. He had texted me, right before I sat down to study for a test — an exam — I have tomorrow. How can I think about expansionary fiscal policy when I’m riding my own emotional roller coaster?
Can you find a part of yourself in these lines? I do. That’s one of the magical qualities of the written word — its ability to create connection.
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