It is a well known fact that I am sensitive. Too sensitive usually, the smallest of details bother me. And I don't mean that it will bother me for a short while and then I'll forget about it, I mean that I will obsess over it for days, probably weeks, maybe even months. I will turn it over in my mind, whether at the forefront or somewhere in the background, and I will pick it apart until I'm seeing all kinds of things that don't exist.
A passing comment, a look, body language, a reaction or lack thereof... Anything and everything can set my thoughts on fire and it so difficult to stop it and control it. I make up hidden meanings and reasonings behind it all, and despite knowing that I'm being blinded by paranoia I believe it anyway.
And so I need a lot of reassurance on a day to day basis. Because these imaginings make it difficult to see fact and to trust my instincts. And they trigger the anxiety attacks, the depression, the delusions, insecurities, thoughts of self destruction and disappearing...
But as much as I hate how sensitive I am because it makes me feel so weak, you take it away and what do I have left?
Without sensitivity I don't have my creativity, my ability to write and draw and photograph. You take away my empathy, my understanding for other creatures. You take away my intuition, my ability to appreciate all of the things that matter. My spirit, my passion, my awareness, my love, my vivid curiosity and innermost thoughts. You take away my conscience. My essence. All of the things that I don't despise and actually like about myself? Gone.
You take away my ability to flow. You take away my effluence.
