A month-old draft about feels, mistranslation, and dissonance. I'm on a roll here.

Cue cliche: some feelings just can't be put in ink or encoded in a word processor. I worship duality and various forms of extremes. In this case of duality, there exists some form of irony and the irony here being this: a person who is very expressive and well-versed in various forms of communication, but with a loss for words or means of articulating these feelings too often. Maybe I just notice these moments too much that I see that huge discrepancy. Words don’t carry the same meaning as these feelings, even in the handful of languages that I know. Pencil sketches can’t capture the convoluted beauty of it. The body can only do so much before it becomes a funny concoction of feelings plus hormones and other biochemical components. Dancing is just hard—while I’m fine with rhythm and movement, the expression gets lost somewhere in between the turns and en pointes. Music comes real close, but it doesn’t represent it a hundred per cent. I’m pretty sure this lack of avenues for expression is one of the main reasons why acid and bakes are still hot on the market, especially for introspective frustrated individuals, mayhap.

“Feel the music. Think about who you want to dedicate this song to.” That line never works on me, or at least it hasn’t the past three years I had gone back to singing. There is a huge difference between being dramatic and just feeling the song and making anyone listening feel it in return. I am not dead inside; it’s in the translation where the dissonance kicks in. Feeling is a luxury. I’d rather think. Although…Wouldn’t it be nice to just lie on the beach, take in the breeze, look at the stars, and just feel?

Well then...Lie with me on the beach, bury your back in the sand. Take in everything, from the sea breeze to the salt in the air, to the scent of each other’s hair and the sensation of each other’s skin, take it all in. Look at the stars, and thank the heavens they’re not airplanes. Imagine the wind is the epic background music to the moment. Let’s not think about the proper words or the right movements to each second or the right notes and the right key. Feel my hand and lightly hold it in yours. Brush your fingers on my arm and just feel it—it will be cold, I know it. Feel the moment, store it in the back of your head, forget about it eventually, and maybe remember it once in a while when you begin to randomly search your brain for random memories and feelings. Feel the beauty of it, feel it consume you even if you know of its transient state. Feel with me.

Yeah, feelings. Pshh.



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(If you've noticed, I've been uploading some of my long-overdue pending drafts. No reason. I don't need a reason.)