It sounds like you have a strong connection to your emotions and value them highly, but sometimes struggle with others not understanding or appreciating them in the same way. It can be difficult when we feel like our emotions are not being validated or respected by others. It's important to remember that everyone experiences and expresses emotions differently, and it's okay if not everyone understands or connects with our emotions in the same way. It's also important to remember to have self-compassion and not put too much pressure on ourselves to be understood by others. It's also important to give others space and time to understand us, and to practice forgiveness when others don't understand us. Sometimes, we may have to accept that not everyone will understand or appreciate our emotions, but that doesn't mean that our emotions are not valid or important.
ChatGtp summary
knock knock
Emotional cages is a trap I found my self living into. Much like Odette, much like Rothbart, both me.
In greek for the word cage, we use the word klouvi - κλουβι. Turkish used to describe the royal prisons of a Sultan. A cage for Sultan's brothers, so the impose no threat to his unquestionable leadership.
I developed and regarded my emotions in such high regard, that I struggle the people to correspond in that height, any day, any place, any time, any location, out of blue, just now. So did they, asking to be admired for their own magnificent emotional cages, pushing each other deeper and more distant into our own emotional caves. More rooms, more lavishing textures for our majestic cages. Reflecting the emotions we have onto the rest, sitting modestly to our Hubble struggle, like Odette, Innocent children trapped into these high walls. Feeling lonely.
Demanding respect into this great grand hall built with emotions. Where is the awe to the architect of this place, ME! Trapping the visitors with a silent emotional dilemma "if you love me, you must understand me, be silent, in this room can be only me". Leaving no room for a stranger to admire or ignore. Pressuring and weighting every breath the stranger that distorts the silence these art demands.
An act of hubris not to understand, not to be silent, not loving me you stranger, when I walk you to my emotional cage. Where is your admiration?
Ok... I need some love, no need to be megalomanic nor melodaramatic about it, just honest. So free why people do not understand my emotions.
Using the excuse you do not understand how important is this to me. Hiding behind the self-significance and wondering why none admires the place, that we have not started admiring ourselves.
Follow a self-loving Stendhal syndrome, however, it is just a song, just a movie, just something very important for you. Probably I would love to hear the story behind it. However, it is ok if I don't get it first hand and give time to each other to understand us. I guess in the meantime, during the time I do not understand you, the time you do not understand me, We will be either silly, crude, tactless, untamed into a piece of innocence we took for granted or never had the time to experience.
Forgiveness is to live with love, be in love.
I was a very small kid when I went to an opera show. I did not know what opera was, sitting for ice cream. The descriptions from my uncle, aunt, and slightly older cousin gave me the impression it was some show. A theatrical one, I liked those! So they took us in, delighted for a sudden cultural evening. It was a comedy play opera, probably...
I could not stop laughing from her first breath, from every note that was sung that night. Sounded so queer and ticklish, and their expression, and makeup. It was the best show in the whole world, I loved opera, my cousin join the fun. Genuine loving it.
Aunt could not take it, neither uncle, neither the people around me. They pointed with every possible way how rude and disrespectful we may be. I laughed in a comedy. Our beloved aunt and uncle tried to hold the value of the evening, moving seats at least three times. Disturbing my ecstatic attendance.
During one of the transits, I fall on the concrete stairs, hurting my knees and bleeding. My cry of pain was cured instantly by an explosive note from one of the sopranos... laughter cures everything indeed.
Aunt gave up and pulled us out, depriving me of the best comedy I could have attended.
I ask the muse Thalia, mother of the play, is it not but innocence the eyes, ears, and my senses for her magic?
Love
Adam
Emotional cages is a trap I found my self living into. Much like Odette, much like Rothbart, both me.
In greek for the word cage, we use the word klouvi - κλουβι. Turkish used to describe the royal prisons of a Sultan. A cage for Sultan's brothers, so the impose no threat to his unquestionable leadership.
I developed and regarded my emotions in such high regard, that I struggle the people to correspond in that height, any day, any place, any time, any location, out of blue, just now. So did they, asking to be admired for their own magnificent emotional cages, pushing each other deeper and more distant into our own emotional caves. More rooms, more lavishing textures for our majestic cages. Reflecting the emotions we have onto the rest, sitting modestly to our Hubble struggle, like Odette, Innocent children trapped into these high walls. Feeling lonely.
Demanding respect into this great grand hall built with emotions. Where is the awe to the architect of this place, ME! Trapping the visitors with a silent emotional dilemma "if you love me, you must understand me, be silent, in this room can be only me". Leaving no room for a stranger to admire or ignore. Pressuring and weighting every breath the stranger that distorts the silence these art demands.
An act of hubris not to understand, not to be silent, not loving me you stranger, when I walk you to my emotional cage. Where is your admiration?
Ok... I need some love, no need to be megalomanic nor melodaramatic about it, just honest. So free why people do not understand my emotions.
Using the excuse you do not understand how important is this to me. Hiding behind the self-significance and wondering why none admires the place, that we have not started admiring ourselves.
Follow a self-loving Stendhal syndrome, however, it is just a song, just a movie, just something very important for you. Probably I would love to hear the story behind it. However, it is ok if I don't get it first hand and give time to each other to understand us. I guess in the meantime, during the time I do not understand you, the time you do not understand me, We will be either silly, crude, tactless, untamed into a piece of innocence we took for granted or never had the time to experience.
Forgiveness is to live with love, be in love.
I was a very small kid when I went to an opera show. I did not know what opera was, sitting for ice cream. The descriptions from my uncle, aunt, and slightly older cousin gave me the impression it was some show. A theatrical one, I liked those! So they took us in, delighted for a sudden cultural evening. It was a comedy play opera, probably...
I could not stop laughing from her first breath, from every note that was sung that night. Sounded so queer and ticklish, and their expression, and makeup. It was the best show in the whole world, I loved opera, my cousin join the fun. Genuine loving it.
Aunt could not take it, neither uncle, neither the people around me. They pointed with every possible way how rude and disrespectful we may be. I laughed in a comedy. Our beloved aunt and uncle tried to hold the value of the evening, moving seats at least three times. Disturbing my ecstatic attendance.
During one of the transits, I fall on the concrete stairs, hurting my knees and bleeding. My cry of pain was cured instantly by an explosive note from one of the sopranos... laughter cures everything indeed.
Aunt gave up and pulled us out, depriving me of the best comedy I could have attended.
I ask the muse Thalia, mother of the play, is it not but innocence the eyes, ears, and my senses for her magic?
Love
Adam
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