They say old habits die hard.

Damn right.

Just had to get that out there. Moving on now.

I've been talking to a close friend recently, about perspective. About what's good and what's bad, and what we need to do and we don't. I could only offer him one idea: I told him, "Just let yourself feel."

Don't shut things down. We feel for a reason. It's what makes us human. Everything happens because of a feeling. It's not healthy to bottle it all inside. For a short period of time, sure. Hide it. Maybe you're just not in a situation to let it out. But you have to release it. Let it run it's course. Because if you don't, if you keep everything inside you, eventually that bottle is going to be full, and what will you do then? You'll stuff it in anyway. Little things, here and there. A flare of anger, bright red. A stab of jealousy, a vivid emerald green. That burst of joy, a glowing golden. All of it goes into the bottle. And it may be beautiful. It is beautiful, how everthing can be shoved away like that. That swirl of colors, harmless, just out of reach. Congratulations, you're non-human once again. I'm happy for you. Absolutely golden.

But then a color comes along, and you try too hard to swirl it in with the rest. Deep blue; depression. It's too huge, but you can't admit that. You can't feel it's extent, because you can't feel. And so you get it in the bottle. But it really is one thing too many, and the bottle cracks. Just a hair-thin crack, near the top. You didn't even notice. What you didn't know about depression, dear frend, is that it grows. Wherever you put it, it grows to fill the space, it's beautiful blue always expanding, looking for something else to touch. It finds that crack, and pushes into it, forcing it open; breaks the top right off that bottle. And then everything will pour out at once, a rainbow of old emotion. So old you can no longer find it's source. It's too much. Who will you go to?

I was there last time it was too much. You came to me, and told me secrets I never wanted to know, but can't take back. I absorbed everything you told me, let it flow into my own bottle, filled with all the colors that I can't hide but at the same time can't release. I wiped the tears off your cheeks, rubbed them out of existance. You let them go, they didn't matter anymore. And as you took me home, I could see that you sat up a little straighter. The shine in your eyes was not just from the tears anymore. And I knew, that if you had looked, you would have seen me sink a bit farther into my seat, would have seen my eyes close with the effort to contain all the colors you had poured into me. You would have noticed the extra effort it took me to get this new weight out of the car and up the stairs. But for once, you were light. I looked back at you from the door, drawing out just enough yellow for a smile, and you glowed, absolutely radiant, back at me. I turned into my house, and felt the first crack. My bottle was full.

I got down to my room, and simply collapsed, drowning in color. The entire room was blue, as I cried hard for you and everything you had told me. Streaks of red shot through the walls, and black drops of pain fell from the ceiling. I laid there for hours, and just let myself feel it all. Somebody had to feel it.

Come the next morning, my room, my skin, my perspective, was still a faint blue, spotted with the grays of worry. And then my phone lit up, and glowed golden with the joyous light of your good mood. Buttery happiness and the peacefulness of purple began to show through again, as I gently siphoned the blues and grays back into my healing bottle. We chatted lightly, both in a perfect, purple state of non-humanity.

But if you focus, deep within yourself, you can get a glimpse of that bottle, just to check how full it is. All of this happened 6 days ago. I can see my bottle; it can't handle much more. What about yours?

Who will you go to?