Obsession is a wild thing.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been feeling numb for so long now that I’ve forgotten what physical emotions feel like—or maybe I am developing a super immunity against the chemical receptor blockers that I down every morning—but something is different. Something is stewing, burning, catching fire…

The first time was obvious. Like a slap in the face, it couldn’t be mistaken. I was crouched on a stool in my kitchen hovering over a stack of mail when I suddenly felt the urge to cry. A deep sorrow took hold of my frame, knotting my stomach and stealing my breath. My thoughts soared as they searched for an explanation—a name, a date, a memory—something that could have triggered the sadness as easily as if a button had been pressed. I stood in a daze, about to take myself to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face and wait for the tears, when the distress disappeared as abruptly as it had come.

The second time was something else entirely. It began with what may have been a psychic premonition. Seated at my work desk, I was, as per usual, cold. The square shaped office was not exactly inviting, as the painted cement walls and the mustard-color floor tiles were reminiscent of the jailhouse they used to accommodate. Though 150 miles of thruway separated me from my somewhat intimidating and incredibly unpredictable fright of a boss, her icy voice was never far from my thoughts. As I moved my computer cursor across the monitor and toward the icon for my office e-mail, a flush of nerves overtook my senses. This time the sensation was marked largely by nausea—a panic screamed through my veins and stopped at my heart. I could not click on the icon. My pointer finger froze on the left click of the mouse and I stared blankly at the screen. Something felt wrong—dooming. Menacing. It would not be the first time to find a message filled with chastisement and disdain in my inbox. A surge of bravado pressured my finger down and the e-mail client fluttered open. No new mail. I waited for relief that didn’t come. My center churned and my heart rate raced. I felt trapped in a stiff body, afraid to move, as if the impending doom could be elicited by the slightest pulse. And then the phone rang, the piercing ring jolting my body with an awkward spasm. My co-workers stared. Good morning, Downstate Housing Office. The icy voice rattled off a slew of fragmented instructions. My note-taking hand twitched as it tried to keep up with the voice. And then she was gone. I expected the nausea to subside with the disconnection of the phone call, but it lingered. A heavy weight pressed on my chest and I questioned my sanity. Busy work sufficed as distraction, and hours later I realized that at some point, I had found equilibrium. It had ended without notice.

The third, the fourth, fifth, the tenth times have all been slight variations of the first two—always extremely physical, always with a heightened mental awareness, and never with logical cause or explanation. Electric waves of excitement, bursts of inexplicable happiness, hugs of warmth, torrents of anger—these have all found me at the oddest, most seemingly insignificant of moments. While sitting on the train, while putting on eye-shadow, while ordering a drink, while talking to a friend. I have interrupted others midsentence for the sheer fact that I cannot listen. I cannot help but to associate the visceral responses with the words that they speak. She explains the low point of her day and I have the urge to run around the room, overcome with excess energy. He rants passionately about a new project, and I long to hug him. Strangers ask me for directions, and I want join them.

When it first began I was frightened, afraid that I was slipping, moving backward in time toward the darkest of days. As the emotions evolved, matured, expanded, I realized a new expectation—a desire to feel with more power, more passion. Now as my heart flutters and my breath quickens, a smirk escapes my lips. This is not a return to normalcy. This is new. This is life. This is being alive and experiencing everything through everyone. A gift with which I have become wildly obsessed. An experience I wish could transcend every moment, every relationship. A part of me that words will never, could never do justice…but that forces me to try.