Touch. Feel.

Touching and feeling are two different things, right? To touch something takes no emotion; just a million different nerve endings reacting as one. But to feel... that takes a certain awareness. Something moves deep inside of you; a soul, an inner-self – whatever you want to call it – shifts. You feel something, which involves emotion, and move (react) with it. It's like rolling with the punches, except the fist that's breaking your jaw is your own.

Whatever you feel – love, sadness, hatred – makes a home inside of you; it seeps its way into your bones, and flows along with the garage-band beat of your heart. You feel it consume you and yet you let it anyway. You surrender over to that feeling completely and let it control your thoughts and movements. Soon, the feeling changes you; your insides reverse themselves and you're left with a completely different person then you were before.

That's what you were going for, right? To be consumed, hollowed out and left empty except for that feeling. But what if the object of that feeling were to be taken away? What if that person or thing, whatever if may be, was washed away on the same sardonic wave that brought it?

The feeling that had for so long ate away at your organs would vomit them back up – mashed and tattered as they are – and you would be forced to touch them and put them in your mouth and swallow them whole. And no matter how much this simple organ puzzle hurts, you know it'll just happen again and again. You've realized this after many sleepless nights trying to patch yourself up. Over and over this happens – until one day you finally understand. To feel is to live, and to only be able to touch is the saddest feeling that could ever eat away at you.