When I was in high school, I devoured Chicken Soup for the Soul books like crazy. Someone would bring them to class and because I didn’t have the means to buy my own, I’d have every page of every Chicken Soup book that would land on my lap photocopied.
Those anecdotes moved me, soft little 14-year old that I was. I remember being touched by a particular story that come dinnertime, I read it out loud to my dad. He got misty-eyed, told me he loved me, and gave me a hug. MEMORIES.
(I miss my dad.)
I don’t know when I lost the ability to feel. I am quick to dismiss and detach; it’s a strength, I suppose. But I’m at an age where the lack of real connections and of meaningful conversations leave me feeling empty. I’ve become so disgusted with emotions, regarding them as something only the weak have that I don’t allow them to exist even when I’m alone.
Last week, Joey and I were at the book store and I gravitated towards the shelf that housed the Chicken Soup for the Soul books. Did you know those things cost about PHP600??? So I grabbed a pocketbook print (it was cheaper at less than PHP400) because really, I could use some stories to open my heart and rekindle my spirit.
Or maybe emotions really are stupid.
PS: The Butt Out app says I’ve been a non-smoker for 5 days and 17 hours. I think I picked the wrong week/month to quit.