About that feeling

About that feeling

A Story by Caio Emmanuel

About feelings, it's names, and how hard it is to define them. Some stuff I needed to get off of my chest a couple years ago, about a ex-girlfriend.


July, 17. 2008.

Do some things come back? Or did they just run through our lives one only time… With the only purpose that we get to know them. You know? Once, and never again. And then, just memories e memories. And a few photographs.  I have the photographs, a lot of them, but I don’t like to look at them. I know I won’t feel anything in seeing her again, but I don’t like it. I don’t like to feel anything. Maybe I still wanted to fell a thing. Maybe we really could have worked it out. But she cheated on me so many times, why do I even think about it?

It’s not something that stays in my mind. It’s not something that I think of everyday, nor every week, nor every month. But it occurs me from time to time… “What if…?”

And then I ask me: What if what? If she hasn’t moved away? If she hasn’t cheated on me? Or if she had move and came? Well, I think if relationships depended on “What if”, all of them would work out. All of us would be married, in love, with children and everything else. But that’s not how it works.

Actually, it works like nothing, exactly. I still don’t get it.

Get love.

I also didn’t got it about love with her. But it seemed something really close to that. Close enough to love. I think the right name isn’t passion, either.

… They should make up more words to express feelings. Some many words for stupid things… 

What about the feelings? So few. What goes a little beyond passion and a lot before love? Anybody tell me? Yeah.

By the way, I’m asking myself why did I started thinking about her. Well, I got the answer to that. My internet went off (ridiculous right?) and I decided to do something that god me busy. I opened my Poetry folder and started reading them. One by one, since the first ones. Most of them was to some girl I liked. Some of these poetries I really liked. Some of them are good. Some of them are futile. But I think at least half of them was written to one single person, one single girl.

A girl to whom I had this feeling (We haven’t decided the name, right?). And this feeling gave me a way to several words. Several poetries. Some strophes got real close to it. But I don’t like defining things with sentences. I like defining them with words.

Define me with one word? Easy. I’m different.

Easy. That’s how I define myself. The reason why is another thing. Maybe I write about it later, If my internet doesn’t come back.

Well, back on.  I was reading these poetries. E I realized each one of them had a feeling. Let’s put it in numbers… Let’s say after her, I liked four girls. And all the poetries to these four girls had a common feeling. The “liking”. The “fire”, the “moment”. All other poetries, made for HER, have other feeling. Yup, that feeling. Nameless, right?

That’s right. What I wrote in the top, about things getting back. It’s not that I want her to come back. I want back what I felt for her. Because I remember I liked it a lot. I remember I got used to that with ease. And I took to a while to get unused to it.

How do you define something that’s easy to get used to and hard to get unused to? One word: 


I think it is, yes. I think I need that feeling again. That feeling. Those hours I spent enjoying all the beautiful words I had to write about. All because of that feeling . Inspiring, that I remember. It hurted, sometimes, but who cares to s**t like this. Everything hurts. Everything.

Nothing is 100% good for something. You can be saving someone’s life in a OR, but you could be doing something better. Everything we do, by most amazing it may seem, takes us to some other thing we must do. And that’s what hurts. We’ll never get there.

But that’s good. Getting there must suck, listen to me.

I want that thing back and I have tried to look for, but I don’t think that’s how I’ll find it. It’s like, in basketball, shooting a free throw. You stand there in the live, with the ball in hands and the basket in front of you. If you try to push, If you shoot when you want, you’ll miss. You have to wait. To know how to “listen” to the moves of your body and get the harmony. It’s automatic. The shot will come out without you noticing, and you’ll make it. Simple.

But life ain’t f*****g basketball and the feeling I want is not as primitive as a basket.

It’s not just about finding the… Sorry, about the feeling finding me. It’s about having the feeling about the right person. Am I wanting too much? You bet, I am.

I have even already thought to have found the right person. But didn’t found the right feeling.

Of course, other than that, I still have to conquer the person. Make her want to be with me, but that’s the last step of the objective. That’s the harmony I want.

Thanks for listening to me, I needed to get it off of my chest. I realized how I felt meanwhile writing here. *Laughs* Who needs a shrink when you got time and a computer?

© 2010 Caio Emmanuel

Author's Note

Caio Emmanuel
I wrote it all at once, didn't re-read at the time, didn't erased to re-qrite in some way easier to understand. I wrote what I thought, the exact way I thought and in the order I thought. Of course, a little more organized. If you happen to read and don't understand it, don't mind it. I didn't wrote this for anyone to read. Not even for me to read it myself. Just did and was relieved for that!

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Added on February 7, 2010
Last Updated on February 7, 2010
Tags: Love, passion, cheating, feeling


Caio Emmanuel
Caio Emmanuel

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

If there was a perfect way of describing me I promise you I'd post it here. There's not, though, so here it goes some stuff: I'm 19 years old, I've been writing stories, mostly about fantasy, since I .. more..