My teacher challenged us to show her our emotion.


confusion; disorder; bewilderment

To feel is to believe, but if what we feel isn't worth believing in? What if what we feel doesn't exist? Is it cruel to toy with ourselves to the point of emotional turmoil over events that never happened?
Every kind of entertainment today and throughout history has sought to move us. The stories, sounds, concepts, and beliefs are all relayed to us in terrible, beautiful, and deep ways. They make us feel good, but are they hurting us at the same time? Is it somehow degenerative to get wrapped up in stories that go beyond the range of usual human activity?
Movies that address issues such as violence, loss, misunderstanding, fear and uncertainty, true love, and regret are very moving; we feel them in our soul. Those that fantastically involve discovery of other intelligent life forms in our universe or beyond wrap us up in the all-too-believable unreality of having to choose between one life and another: one's true love or one's true species. This dilemma cannot and will not come to pass; we are alone in the universe and do not have to choose between love and duty on such a level. Some people actually have to choose between love and duty in their lives, but none on such a violent and concentrated level as is depicted in films today. So, can forcing oneself into situations that mankind has never and will never experience actually harm us? Does it upset our emotional make-up? Can we somehow taint our real feelings by exhausting ourselves over inexistent phenomena?
Are the numerous songs about love, violence, and beauty feeding futile desires? Can a song about a suicidal game drive someone to the gun in an attempt to reach that dull yet sharp, sick yet fit, rich yet cheap, highly coveted emotional high: the emotional high that is so wrongly manifested as a positive through a song?
Is hurt good? Is it good to feel pain? Do we need to believe in something? Could we live without other people to count on? Does anyone ever really experience true love? Is there a person capable of valuing someone else's happiness above their own? Are we able to rejoice truly? Are there true moments of happiness? Do we feel anything for real? Does anyone understand us? Can we ever genuinely understand the feeling of another? Do we have the desire of faith necessary to comprehend our place in this universe? Are our motives ever completely devoid of debauchery? Is there anything good? Is there anything bad? Can one's heart ever be wholly dereft of anguish?
Of course we have questions; it's a mysterious world. But will our questions ever be answered? Will my heart ever rest? Will I ever find peace in this world? If not in this world, how so in the next? Is anything really meant to be understand at all? Will this yearning, this desparate seeking, this desire for discovery ever be unequivocally slated? Will my heart strings ever stop pulling my down? Can I ever get off the ground? Will the fluttering in my breast ever settle down and let me feel and know and see without a doubt, without confusion?

Lydia