Do you remember the strength of your teenage feelings?
Do you remember the way they reverberated along your spine, one thousand volts of pure emotion strong enough to take your breath away?
My teenage self was convinced their intensity might split me in two. My small frame was an insubstantial casing, threatening to crack and fail at any moment. Some days I felt the buzz of electricity in my throat and in between my fingertips, and I wondered how I might remain alive.
My feelings were a force outside of my control, changing like the tide. I would crest on a euphoric wave and then my shipwreck heart would crash and ruin.
Each twenty-four hour period was either the best or worst of days. No high was ever comparable and no low was so commonplace as to be empathised with by any other person. I met the words, “I understand” with disdain. I couldn’t comprehend how anybody else might experience the same pain, excruciating as it was, or have the capacity for such strong emotions. I dragged my feelings on my back wherever I went, and I nailed myself to them.