A Study of Emotions

Apathy:

The world swirls around me; too busy, too hectic and too chaotic. My mouth won't utter words of consolation, encouragement or sympathy for any cause. I don't move off the couch. Nothing provokes me enough to lift myself from this position. The world moves as it wills, but I have no part in it. My only movement is thumbing through the channels on the remote. A rerun of Petticoat Junction suits me fine: it doesn't even require a thought. There is nothing inside. I sit here and let the world go by--with no worries, unheeded and unnoticed.

Fear:

My stomach knots. It seems so much larger than it used to be, its edges now flitting somewhere around my throat. I'm cold; a flush of ice that started on my face and dropped rapidly to my feet. My breath is rapid and exposes itself in shallow little gasps like some panting animal. My ears strain for bits of dreaded sounds with eyes wide, trying desperately to see through walls and around corners to catch a glimpse of "it". I pause in this second between running and fighting; at present unsure which action will keep me safe.

Jealousy:

My heart contracts. I feel it tightening, growing smaller; even as it gasps for something it feels should be its own. My eyes dart as they surreptitiously view this object of my desire. Like a true predator, there is no thought but that which circles the owners of this desire; a shark, relentless and cold, with the determined quest of sating its hunger. My lack haunts me, torments me, as it parades the wealth of those that hold my desire as their own. Snaking through my soul, tendrils of desire are fertilized by the dark sparks of poison; the jabs that ask, "Why not me?"

Love:

There is a wandering bubble in my chest, causing me to grin like the Cheshire Cat. It fills this cavity I call my heart before rising to my throat until I ache. I am going to burst; no question of keeping it all to myself. It flows onto everything. It seeps into the sunlight, bright upon the leaves, like flickering drops of amber. It moves into the air surrounding me, breezes carrying a cleaner, lighter scent. It spills onto everyone I meet, all of them different somehow. I can't possibly keep this to myself. It is infinite.

Grief:

I cower; shielding a wound so raw and open, I can't bear anyone to touch it. My soul seeps from it; a part still attached to my loved one's heels. Every minute of their passing drains a bit more. A primal scream wails inside me, choked off from release. It will never leave me; now filling this empty chasm I call my heart. I gasp for breath, tearing at me with every draw. I cannot think. Numbness flits about me, touching my brain with cobwebs, interfering with daily tasks. If only it would hit my heart, I might gain peace.