I_need_to_feel ❲AUTHENTIC · 2025❳

I need to feel the weight of the air before it turns into a storm—that specific, electric stillness that tells you the world is about to change its mind.

We spend so much time buffering ourselves. We buy the softer rug, the noise-canceling headphones, the filtered lens. We curate our discomfort out of existence until we are left in a sterile, temperature-controlled vacuum. But joy doesn't grow in a vacuum. Neither does grief, or wonder, or the wild, messy thrill of being alive. i_need_to_feel

I need to feel the sharp, cold snap of reality. I want the kind of wind that makes you tuck your chin into your chest, the kind that reminds you that you have skin and that skin is a boundary between the "you" inside and the "everything else" outside. I want to stand in a crowd and feel the heat of a hundred different lives vibrating against mine, or sit in a silence so absolute that the sound of my own heart feels like an intrusion. I need to feel the weight of the

If you'd like to adjust the or direction of this piece, let me know: We curate our discomfort out of existence until

I need to feel because feeling is the only proof we have that we aren’t just machines waiting for our parts to wear out. It is the grit in the oyster; it is the spark when the flint hits the stone.