Sometimes you just want to feel. With age even this ability dulls. It dulls as a slow process deluged by the clusterfuck of life. Right under your nose. It is an effort to feel, and all true effort wanes with age.
As a child, a youngling, you feel everything. All of it peppered with mirth. The mirth is what gives childhood its innocence. While mirth is the most fleeting, you can still feel.
Feeling is the only way to realise reality. It can't be articulated, rationalised or conveyed. It can only be felt.
Unfortunately with age, you need motivation, some catalyst to nucleate the thoughts, some intoxication. How else can you ever explain dependence?
What i feel keeps me inside myself. Trouble is even that memory fades and I have to crawl back to this place happy or miserable.