I feel everything with so much intensity, it scares me.

One minute I’m overflowing with so much love, my heart grows as big as the ocean.

The next, I want to violently smack my child for rolling his eyes at me.

One minute I want to howl and die because grief is pulling me apart at the seams.

The next, I feel like a peaceful baby (after having bawled my eyes out) swaddled in her cozy blanket, secure in the knowledge that even if nobody loves me, God does.

It’s exhausting being me.

Having acted like someone so poised and calm for all these years.

And now I just want the world to burn, with me inside it.

Only thing is, I’m still trying to figure out if the flames will erupt from love or wrath.

And then there’s this pesky voice in my head urging me to practice the art of detachment? What possible reason could it have to suggest such a thing?