Often times I think how silly it is to feel— emotions, these things that make me smile or weep, at the ease of a gust wind on a card house.
Why do I need to feel at all?
I suppose it isn’t possible. Without feelings, I would be in a consent state of nothingness, in a way; I would not love nor miss anything, or smile back at a baby’s grin in honest pure joy, or sob when I witness the death of a loved one.
It isn’t possable to feel nothing at all, emptiness. But maybe I can get close, or close as the human body will allow.
That consent state between no emotions that I wish for, and those I wish weren’t there, is ‘content’. The emotional state I wish I could always be in is just that. If I can’t be without emotions, maybe I can possess just that one. Content. As close to nothing as I may ever get.