I spent most of this week asking myself, “Am I OK?”
You’d think I’d be the utmost authority on this, the subject of What I Feel.
The fact is, I’m not, and I haven’t been for longer than I can say.
When was the last time I declared with absolute certainty,
“I feel (insert emotion here).”
Even in my depression, I wavered. Hour to hour, I claimed and denied turmoil.
It was too melodramatic to admit the truth.
But then, I’ve always occupied a space between what I know and what I suspect.
The lens through which I try to view the world is simultaneously more rose-colored than the past would warrant, and more gray than the future demands.
How do I feel about that?
I still don’t know.