I've been aware of sadness, apathy, joy, the weather, my friends, my body. I've been aware of my job and tasks and sleep. I've played things out.
But to actually feel something. To cry. Be warm with anger. To miss someone. To worry.
These things are strange islands to me. Vacation spots that I pass by on my boat, but never stop at.
I have postcards to these emotions from my past. I look at them and tell myself I've been there.
It's been so long though that they seem just like stories.