Feeling.

"You know, the funny sort of sadness that creeps over you when you think about the past...." She trails off. How to explain this feeling that language so utterly fails to encapsulate? It's a bubble caught in your throat, a resilient one that chokes and makes you splutter, but doesn't burst. She thinks hard, tries to think fast before her audience loses interest, she can see it waning already. So she does the best she can. "You know..When you think about the past, and then you think about now. It feels like quicksand, like it's not going anywhere and you're sinking in the pointlessness of it all. You want to go back to being a kid, because you remember playing in the neighbourhood park and Feeling Happy. Everything just seemed to go downhill the moment you became conscious of any reality that existed outside of your imagination and the funny games you used to play. How one thing lead to another, and suddenly you found yourself thinking * Mann...I really screwed up, didn't I?*, but it seems to be too late. You resolve never to feel as strongly/passionately/wrecklessly/helplessly about anyone/thing, because it's OhSoWrong. That's what it feels like, yeah."

Feeling. I use that word too much. I like the way it sounds in my head when I say it over and over again.