Perhaps our emotions are like meteorites. Space junk. Pieces of heaven falling to earth. We see them when they crater.
We poke at them with sticks. We explore their edges. We try to crack them open. We examine. Let’s see what we can find. We won’t understand why they’re there or what they’re for. We’ll never understand. But recognition helps. Recognition gives us early warning.
Like smelling bread before a bakery, or knowing the difference between water and ice on the road. At least we know what’s coming. We can fight or we can fly.
Both valid options. We’re humans, after all.
Me? I’m tired of flying. I want gloves. I want a ring. But that’s a rough habit to hook. I’ve been soaring since day one. I’ve never thrown a punch in my life.