Gazing at the dark through a paint-splattered glass pane

     It scares me sometimes, the range of emotions I'm able to experience, the way they change at the drop of a hat, or more appropriately, with a song or a picture or a TV show or a book or a smell or any of a million other things. From curiosity to nostalgia in 10 seconds. (That does sound like the description of the Firebolt, except with the Firebolt, it was about speed.) But it's good, it is. Emotions set us apart from other creatures (sometimes they're also the difference between being a boy and being a girl). They make us alive. Alive. Such a big, complicated word, but so sad. (This one's from Doctor Who)
     There was a poem by Sarojini Naidu I studied in 10th standard, called The Soul's Prayer. It makes so much sense. Because isn't that what life is about? Living. Feeling alive. Alive. And what better way to know that you're alive, than to feel it? Feel everything you can, because only then will you have lived to the fullest. Even negative emotions, despair, rage, loneliness, everything. Revel in their intensity. Every emotion is exquisite. Hold onto it while you have it, for it will soon pass and you'll be ordinary again. But for those moments, when you're in the grips of an intense, precious, excruciating fervor, you're extraordinary. Because that's when you're most aware of the magic that is being alive.