I have intense feelings and I don’t have any choice but to share them. That’s just the way I’m wired. I love powerfully. I hurt deeply. I experience joy with open exuberance.
I don’t hide my feelings well. If you’re paying any attention at all, you know where you stand with me, because I wear my heart on my sleeve.
But there are times — very rare times — when everything feels numb. When that happens, it means that some part of me — maybe a little part or maybe a big part — has finally died after an extended period of intense pain. It happens without warning, although it’s always predictable in retrospect.
I went numb today. It feels like walking in a driving rainstorm without an umbrella — and not caring what anybody else thinks.

Pursuit of perfection leaves me feeling shame when I’m flawed
Double standards seem like the only standards most politicians know
What kind of sick society names Obama, Clinton its most admired?
I’m the common denominator for all of my dysfunctional romances
Lesson of ‘judgment day’ error? Certainty doesn’t indicate truth
Correcting an old error: there’s no such thing as ‘We the People’
Ron Paul isn’t a racist, but the old newsletters need a credible response
We’re in summer reruns this week
Humans are impatient, but changes in Alabama show speed of change