Every once in a while a strange feeling would hit me and this feeling is unrecognizable to me. It usually comes and goes, but sometimes its’ visits are often extended until I no longer feel the difference between what’s real and what isn’t, what emotion is permanent or temporary, if it’s melancholy or another form of meaning that is unrecognizable or hard to translate into words. I often don’t trust my own conclusions on what it really is because in between my conscious and subconscious lies a separate, but inaccessible understanding of what I think I feel and what I’m actually feeling. Sometimes, they are so overwhelming that it swells against my chest, beating to get out until I weep them out, and then the built up of my sadness, anger, confusion, exhaustion, and frustration from the many attempts of trying to diagnose this mysterious feeling pour down my cheeks. It helps a little; it’s a temporary release of the battles that are currently fighting inside me. But in the end, I think it’s more than just what I think it is or more than what others think it might be. It’s so perplex that it does not have a word, but a feeling that we can only understand ourselves once it hit us.