“I was so mad I could cry.” “I was so excited I wanted to jump up and down.” These imply, “But I didn’t.” After my inexplicably depressed mid-teen years, I decided to shut off all emotions. I felt nothing for a solid two years. I recently decided to let myself feel good again, and to a lesser extent, bad. But I still quash most manifestations of how I feel.

A friend of mine, on the other hand, weeps when she is sad, shakes her body in excitement, and squeals with joy. Another is not ashamed to laugh at the stupidest jokes or talk excitedly about everyday coincidences.

Some people even dance. I want to dance.

Awaken my heart again, God. Save me from pride that I am “above” “silly” emotional exhibitions. Make me geniune.

I just watched the first 3/4 of Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia (1999), and it’s so fucking good, all the time that “I just want to jump up and down.” Maybe I’ll let myself do that when I catch the last quarter later tonight.

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