"I get affected", she said. as a reason for being insulated. as if it was a thing to be avoided.

I did not quite understand. of course I get affected. why won't you? why won't anyone? or why shouldn't anyone? its to worry if someone doesn't, or ceases to.

like that day when I was walking with hubby and two sisters in law (one by marriage, one by marriage-squared) and we stopped for ice cream. no chocolate ever for me. and if there's salted caramel, then there's no choice to be made. the guy asked us if we had tried it, almost as a warning. as if he was saying, "do you know what you're getting yourself into?". he said it was intense. my sincere reply, don't you worry, I'm intense. laughter from my ppl, attributing it to the dinner cocktails. the guy's face falls, as if I'm pulling his leg. but I was doing just the opposite, expressing sincere affiliation with the forewarned loner ice cream. bring it on, I want to be at its mercy.

like when I read fiction about relationships shattering, and behave in mine as the words move in that. start to wonder about all that sex we didn't have this week (maybe longer). imagine the possibility or consider the eventuality of us not being 'us' anymore. and then if the book ends with a return to the absence of pain, I look at him with tenderness again. and if it didn't, we'd probably be fighting right now.

it was all meant to be. every wave of emotion that rises in me has a stimuli somewhere in the world that I touch, I occupy. how else would I be alive? is there another way?