Isn’t emotion interesting?

Here I am, sitting alone on the couch.  Brock took the dog with him, and the kitten jumps up to snuggle with me every fifteen minutes or so.  My hair is cold against the side of my neck, and I can still smell the soap fresh off my skin.  No socks on yet, because I’m not even sure I’m going out.  “The Postal Service” is playing on my laptop as I write, the only sound in the house coming from these two little speakers, and yet I am not lonely.  I sit here, and let the thoughts run through my brain without focus, I lick my lips and only pull my tongue half way back into my mouth, and I can’t figure out the difference.  Where is that pressure that pushes inside of my head?  Where is the little tickle of panic that tells me I’m still alone?  Why aren’t I worried about what I’m going to be doing twenty minutes from now, and thirty?

I would love to go see a movie with a friend, but if she can’t go, that’s ok.  I could go shopping at the mall, but there is no urge to leave the house.  There is no desire to stay.  I just feel good.

I don’t know where the change is, or why.  I don’t know if this is an every day thing, or a today thing.  The half-smirk on my face says that it feels good.  Today feels good.