When some people feel love in a memory, they write songs about it, full of intricate, affected metaphors. Great chefs write recipes, ones with the flavors that arouse the same emotions or sensations. Dancers and athletes move their bodies, flex their muscles, and feel energy in places that before perhaps felt lifeless.
My energy, however, just spins. Feeling swirls around. Collects in the atmosphere. Fills entire rooms and goes spilling out into hallways, tumbling down stairs, and avalanching into the neighbor's yard.
There are moments that as they are happening, you know belong only to you. You know that you're the only one noticing that the sun is peeking in the window just right, or that the room is the perfect temperature for touching. I replay these in my head while I'm on the bus or while I'm walking from the coffee shop to my desk.
What do you think about? I wish I knew. I hope that doesn't make me selfish. I hope it doesn't sound stupid.