I am as sensitive as a LIGO interferometer.

I feel you.

No, really.

I am able to detect the slightest minute fluctuation — the tiniest, infinitesimal shifts in your mood. I can feel your nuclei move. I can hear the RR interval in between your heart beats.

As waves of your emotional gravity ripple towards me, I beam-split your posture, your facial tics, the individual slant of your eyebrows, the asymmetrical slope of your ears, the tone, the intent, the volume and the velocity of your verbiage. And I look at your shoes. Your very essence.

I make multiple calculations in hyper-speed. Nano-seconds if one were to get technical.

We don’t even have to be in the same room, I’m so sensitive.

You could be in, say the state of Washington and I in Baton Rouge, but I know, I feel, I see, I hear you, I = you.

Why do I flinch when you touch me? Because I am already touched by you. You move me, literally, just by being. Touching for me is meta-touching. You slam a closet door and I feel the particle backdraft whoosh of a door closing, 3002 km away.

This is not pouting poet sensitivity.

This is Theory of Relativity sensitivity.

It is not dramatic, but cosmic.

Not Spidey-sense, per se.

More String Theory sense, if one were to label.

And though these signals are all around us, all the time, I know that you cannot detect them like I do.

And this is ok.

For I do not wish LIGO Interferometer sensitivity on everyone.

It is not for the faint of heart. Nor the thin of skin.

But understand that when I say I do not get a good vibe from you, I mean it in the most serious, scientific way possible.